Strangle my pillow as I’m ripped from life:
Torn apart; Tug of war.
My last feeling: terrified;
My only real feeling of being alive.
I can feel it coming, a lifetime of deep sleep,
I’m waiting to hear the final ongoing beep.
Carried six feet under- even closer to hell.
A jack in the box under a sleeping spell.
Pushed further and further into the ground,
Push me far enough and I’ll never be found.
Red is dead and the blood’s stopped flowing,
Petals start to fall on me, like rain, knowing:
They’re a symbol for goodbye,
Along with the stems,
They will soon be reunited
With soil again.
So go ahead, let it cover me if you must,
By the time you come visit, I’ll have turned to dust.
Does it matter how we bloom, does it matter how we die?
Can I shed a tear as I watch from the sky?
What if my soul disguises as a cloud?
Can I watch the service at the back of the crowd?
How fitting, they all wear black and white,
I've always been dark though seen as light.
A life so short, so has been mine
Losing your keys was nothing compared to losing your life.