black and grey and white, bone-white.
was so cold, casket open and eyes closed.
they wept, but i hurt the most.
rain smeared down midnight panes and i still hurt.

late night and the elegy drifted on broken notes.
gravesite and the shovel in my hands, rain.
quietude, calm.
mud on my knees, my hands.
blood, nonexistent blood of a nonexistent struggle.
(all that was left was chaos and rain, raging storms in broken minds)
but it wasn’t you six feet under.

it wasn’t you, and all the dreams died.
so why am i feeling so lonely?
like the earth’s eroding away under my feet

and there’s no escape from the darkness that lurks in the corners.