Last I heard, death sneaked up faster than
I could run.
Those ******* thought of me as a truth.
That black, rotting tongue of yours
spit out even blacker lies.
This death, this very death,
is enough to make everything blend in with
everything.
That river runs away as if it knows;
Death is a black hole.
You know it's there, but not where.
To you, and only you, I am crushed under the
weight of these unchangeable truths;
you are gone.
My blood, Come back.
This blood, take it.
These tears can create a new river if the world
really needed it.

I'd do it too.
(If I Could)