Blood on my hands and the bathroom floor
When will this stop? I wonder as it slowly pours
The blood comes from the cuts on my arm
How did I get here? What have I done?

a casket my bed, my morbid rest
I am dead
I am blessed
death; a darkness that roams fancily dressed.

just grown ups but kids behind closed doors,
wild tides crashing at shores;
hiding little secrets into drawers,
a big mess across floors.

a battlefield with no blood, just poison
using words not weapons
where every little thing hurts, that's happened
where the soldiers don't sacrifice but disappear
leaving wounds that are severe.

Your arms,
my forever home
Your eyes,
a mirror of my own
Your voice
a soothing sound
Your presence
a quiet space when the world is loud.

In our caskets,
Our cadavers they lay
the rain is pouring and the clouds are gray

Six feet under we'll rest
In heaven we're nothing but guests

Hell, our forever home
Our world, where everyone is alone

We die,
And a gift of salvation, we're blessed

In our caskets
Our cadavers they rest.

When I was in my bed taking my last
breath;
I heard a knock at my door and I knew it was death.