Who are you to hate even in death?
by Morgan Christian
One is for all we all want the best.
As your sick soul falls into sleep,
Upon you misery will creep.
Into your veins that have long run dry,
Your heart finds itself barely beating to get by.
You search for your place amoung the other dead,
On dry sources your fury was fed.
Lost underground with long forgotten faces,
It seems everyone wandered off their first bases.
No one willing to bond together,
Lost in drugged nightmares between reality and forever.
Are you now proud of your glazed over eyes?
As you lay with the others unable to cry.