I bury letters like dead bodies

Beneath the trees I could never climb
About how endless jokes can mask the most depressed
The insecure are best dressed
And schizophrenic genes in youth suppress

My very own shadow whispers eventual death

I bury letters like dead bodies

One day when the glass bottles are dry
In the yellowest sun
I'll dig up my old letters for fun
With words pointing at victims like a loaded gun

Young paper and ink left there for one

I bury letters like dead bodies