When grief is deep it's tough to sleep;  you toss and turn  and feel a burn  in your eyes;  You sigh and try  again, for forty winks but there's a chink  in your id, God forbid. When will it end?  Depends on the depth of the hole and who's in control. So you say a prayer stating life's unfair... "Release me, Lord to be restored to happy trails lifting scales dour and sour every hour, I beg of thee, in your holy name. Amen.   Recognized Author Notes The hour is sour for a loved one has passed. Grandpa is no longer present, and his granddaughter is saddened by his loss. Picture is my own photography. Id - the part of the psyche, residing in the unconscious, that is the source of instinctive impulses that seek satisfaction in accordance with the pleasure principle and are modified by the ego and the superego before they are given overt expression.

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