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.