The plastic bag in a clouded haze
begins to melt beneath a twisted gaze
and the sapphires in the sky lose their grip
and slowly now begin to drip
past the lonely tree that glistens
shining brightly yet no one listens
and the grass it wildly cries
for everything in life that dies.
But how do you explain death
to someone muttering darkly under their breath?
You must pass through Hell to get to Heaven
and the beauty, it will always beckon
but your memories will not forgive
or hide the monsters that in your brain live;
in assurance now we find our names
and hope someday we’ll be the same.