I should wait until your body dies,
to arrange the funeral,
but your diamonds left your bones
a good few years ago
and your soul is at the bottom of
a cheap bottle of cider.
So I've had my funeral,
the one in my mind
any good memories have gone
because they were just all lies.
And you murdered love
and replaced it with PTSD.
And every day
is a toward to an early death
nothing will stop you
self-pity fuels you
and pushes you to the edge of life
and a rotting zombie stumbles back.
In your drama,
you wear the only crown of thorns
but we all wear them too
you ripped trust from your children
way too young
and pulled my heart from my chest.