There’s a letter
left beside my grave
—instructions for the end of the world.
Love is dead;-
death a mistress,
for in this old dream,
I had seen the skies crack open
widely, for those children of the rapture
—those left behind to only witness.
The eyes of time
had finally become blind;-
none could see how long their suffering
The silence of chaos,
was a perfect knife- carving through
all the hearts of many, but it couldn’t cut
for their hearts were too empty;
their pride’s stomach filled of gluttony.
The care that people had for us,
quickly; quietly vanishes
with every speck of eternal dust.
In the end,
all our stories will be the most
beautiful songs never heard.
As we seem to be still searching
for a blessing, hiding in a
subtle disguise; and a reminder of
All the gals I loved,
and the jealous kisses you traded
with many other guys.
The end will truly be
wild in the dark,
so hellish in your eyes for one hell of a night.
So in that letter you left me,
hopefully my soul recalls what piece
of love, I never shown you much,
kissing a last time;- before I die,
before all of the world dies.
