And this three delight nights-
What really is someone falling asleep alone
And the sound of a lifeless carcass in this godforsaken road.

Can a wounded soul really scream bloody murder?
Is anything really sacred anymore?
Is anything really respected anymore?
Are there enough
“I’m sorry”s
To make up for what I never said?
The flower petals are inching across the floor.
Burn them.

The clouds circulate
Above your pretty little head
As you lay there
Listlessly contemplating
The scents of those blinking lights
The paramedics will proclaim
“the alphabet is dead”
And walls will crumble
As our foundation of life
Lapses into a coma

Is anything really sacred anymore?
 
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