If I die
and think about what I would leave behind,
All I can see are tear tracks on invisible faces.
If I die
and think about being burned or buried,
All I know is that my soul will be in hell.
All I know is that my soul will be in hell.
For it was me that put myself there.
It was me, that embodied pain.
Every conscious and unconscious choice
Placed my under that weight.
If I die
and think about my materials,
All I know is, they may burn with me
Or collect dust on the corner of a bookshelf
Just like they always did,
with no regard to any plea.
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