Who would’ve thought,
death could taste so good,
sweet light green,
hints of mint,
those deep purple undertones.

And the vibrating of a soul,
shaking loose an exterior,
misunderstood and abused,
but no more.

Those who haven’t,
may just turn back,
but here we are,
on the verge.

Of what?
there is no "why?"
not "because"
all of it for this.

just look forward,
none of that matters now,
i’m not coming back,
i’m not coming back.