Hand in hand
but all in all,
worth nothing.

Descending from the gallows,
recounting a life worth living,
reborn from meaningless ashes,
a phoenix gives its last shot,
forever indebted to the flame,
having cleansed it of its past.

We traverse the beaten path,
prepared to drive our own hearses
into familiar bodies of water.

Tracing our veins like footpaths
mapped to the graves of previous lovers,
we dream of blades to sever ties.
Sever the ties to the past,
drain our tears into hollow caskets.

Hand in hand,
all in all,
worth nothing.