i don't want to hear
your words
they trip me up
when i'm running
away
i can't even look at
the hearse
it stutters my speech
when i'm just trying to
say

"have a good death without me-

now that you're dead" and

"what are these thoughts

running through my head"

i wish we were all five years old again

scribbling on our coloring sheets

that way, we could all play pretend

that death was a fate we'd never meet