Never mind the flowers on your grave.
Never mind the truth of what they say.
For today is a vast haven of hope beyond the falling stars of doubt.
It's possible that even though you cope
The world still deems you devout.
You find it hard to breath inside this candied shell.
The tears that melt in your hand taste like periwinkles.
The smell, the very sound of fear.
It embraces you once again with it's twisted grin.
It smiles at you, it wants to make you comfortable.
But instead of fawning over Death's door why not take a step in?
Never mind the cold hearted eulogy.
Never mind the things people say to me.
Leaky faucets and runaway home-wreckers are a thing of the past.
It's possible that you've just imagined a world without passion,
Just how long can you last?