The day after dying,
Your mortal shell will rot
And be filled with sleeping pills
No, sugar can not
Hide the pain you feel
From failing your many deaths,
Immortal now and always,
A hundred final breaths.
The day after dying,
You're nothing but a husk,
An empty, rotting hell
That lies awake until dusk,
Just contemplating painful existence
That wounds every inch of you.
Words, knives, and other pains
Don't feel enough in joy's lieu.
The day after dying,
Nothing will even change.
You'll still be a hopeless wreck.
You'll still be from peers estranged.
You'll still be a walking corpse.
You'll still never be alive.
You'll always wish you'd succeeded.
You'll feel useless just like I've.
