Not everything is life or death
I hear it, but I don’t believe it
For me, it has been
Not living, surviving, scraping by
By my paper thin finger nails
I dug into you
It seems now
I dig my grave
To burry my grieving body
Of every sin she ever possessed
The smoke burns white
I am no saint
I fixed my eyes before me
The Isaiah crucifix ahead
I am not the first to burn
Pray I will be the last
Pray I am enough
Of an offering