Your like the flower on my casket
a death notice
and a heavensent prayer
your name is etched into my gravestone
chizeled into me
your like vines covering the sun
you filled the hollow ground
with my innocent blood
but I am never visited
by your crying children
just left to disinigrate
I'm already forgotten
five years ago tommorow
you left me here

here's a little something im working on not done yet...

your misused metaphors
stem from stifled signifigance
cornering me into clandestine crimes
destroying deeponed demons
is the only way I can survive
uplift my insecurities into unknown boxes
storing them in a dark closet
consealed by conservative censors

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