i've never been good with death
i'm terrified by the thought
of eternal rest
i bring no words of comfort
no distraction from the grief
i stand there like a statue
offering no hope or relief
i see it as a ritual
in my eyes it seems wrong
i know it's what you do
but i can't make myself play along
eventually, the right words
come running through my head
but it doesn't matter now
because you're already dead.