The dead do not suffer the living
why should the living suffer the dead
theres no spark in the eye only coldness
no more cheerful thoughts
no warm at hearts
no more butterfly wings
only things that sting
the feeling of sharp teeth
claws digging at my heart
emotional pain is like an ink stain
a blot on my very soul
growing but not fading
pain thats not decaying
hurting and uncaring
overwhelming black satin
a warmth hiding my shame
a death shroud iv been wearing
the dead do not suffer the living
