My funeral was empty, my gravestone was bare

The flowers that were meant for my mourning, were never there

No one planted the soft grass, for the criers to kneel on

No one visited me daily, no one knew I was gone


I died so alone, even the walls turned away

The floors closed their eyes, and I begged them to stay

I saw the chair turn its back, I watched my surroundings fade

I was left to be alone, left to die in peace, but instead I drifted off,

into an infinite sleep


You shot me a thousand times,

and you fell to the floor,

you begged for a rescuer, you left me behind closed doors


You shot me a thousand times,

and you played the role as hurt,

you played the one that bled out

You sang sadness and dark words


You shot me a thousand times,

just as you did to the rest

You sat there with depressed eyes,

pleading for their mercy, crying for this mess

While I laid, behind your pitiful lies, bleeding to death


-Chloe Aldecoa


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