Sincere condolences are lost
Amidst that disgusting
Wretch,
Who’s amusement grows with
Ones destruction. My destruction.
Poking and prodding and probing me…
Those antics (verbal or otherwise)
Don’t work. They scar.
Soon, a shadow of the same worth
Will lace a headstone.
May the darkest ghost follow you throughout your days.
“Here lies she.
Not ready for eternity.
Sweet angel of mercy!”

I’m tired of saying
That I won’t get lost ever again
Who knows?
Maybe  I will

And everywhere I go there I’ll be
With a rusty old rake in a  pile of leaves
Oh my
Truly daunting

But my blue eyes  cannot see
That their real hue is probably green
I should keep records of  these things
And I know what yesterdays bring

And I’m not really  sure
But I’m starting to think that I’ve been here before
Who knows?
Maybe I have

And everywhere I went