The roses lift their wearied heads,
To witness my half-hearted death.
They bow in the most solemn honour
To my corpse and rotting flesh.
And as the ants try drag me together,
They only pull me apart again.
Greedy bites of my insides,
Tried and denied a new friend.
I just waited for the therapy to delete the problem,
And fought against the fight.
Til all at once I finally broke,
And I could never lose this sight.

The vines grow across me now,
Silent sepulchre to possess.
I toss and turn in my perpetual sleep,
Til there is no skin left.
As I'm ensnared in my ivy tomb,
Who left me here to bleed?
Was it your poorly executed handiwork?
Or my own special needs?
A dried zero carved with liquid,
Resembles the prisoner you made of me.
Zero oh so lonely,
But not existent to see.

Still my skin peels away,
Wind runs through my scattered guts.
And as the raw meat finally decays,
Know I've had deeper cuts.
As the last wisps of hair linger in the breeze,
Do you ever reach to catch them?
Maybe this time I'll trap you in my web,
Except not with lies, but truth instead.
You helped build this self-made cage,
I tore free past the thorns.
I'll tie you in knots of lies you made me believe
In a dead shell a soul reborn.

The bony remnants of my fading body,
A harrowing sight indeed.
Butterflies dance and flounce right past,
And never know that it was me.
They kiss my new found fatal wounds,
In beauty you'll never perceive.
I'm ethereal, eternal,
Though my internal never again seen.
I've forgotten you now,
For I've no emotion for you left.
And never again will the roses lift their wearied heads,
To witness my half-hearted death.