I will take to bed with me
This sickness you all talk about.
This well wishing you falsely pledge
Is all just dead-speak
For you know not, and you will not.
I am here, barely, just hoping that this day will go away
I am without, mostly, just awaiting the day where this one won’t be.
I have been taking myself for granted for the longest time
Making the most of the best,
But never making the better of the worst.
I hope the shame you tout
About things you know not
Will envelope you with a guilt so painful
That you die so many times over
You lose count.
