living,
is not a matter of life or death,
having a soul,
inhaling,
no,
you see,
i passed away,
lost my soul,
along time ago,
but i can still inhale
my own bitterness,
i can still stand
right in the burning hellfire,
of my own despair,
i can still wait for the rainfall,
thinking it might wash away
my everlasting grave,
and all it did,
is turn me into dust,
even more,
i've held my ashes,
as i was casting away,
but my grave
has been dug too deep,
six
feet
under.