My Funeral

I can't remember what happened
Or how I came to stand here
But all I see is devastation
And every single falling tear.

I walked through the dull room
To see a lovely corpse in bed
Dressed so beautifully in black
With red roses near her head.

Somehow she looked so familiar
Like I should mourn death's truth
Such a tragic waste of beauty
And once mesmerizing youth.

Her golden hair around her neck
And bright lace to match her throat
Something doesn't feel right
So I read the corpse's note.

"Beloved Daughter of so-and-so,
Neglected wife of you-know-who.
She will always be in our hearts
And she will also die with you."

How curious of a note to be written
Who would write such a thing?
I wonder how the girl died
Or if an angel explained everything.

I looked again at her painted face
A doll that was obviously broken.
This time she couldn't be fixed
And her blue eyes will never open.

I wonder what the blue looks like
Have they lost their glassy shade?
Does she see past her funeral
To see the mess death has made?

Stop with all these questions
There are people who need to cry
I should send them her regards
For she never meant to die.

There's the mother over there
On her knees and sadly screaming.
I know her, too, I've seen her before,
Though I know I must be dreaming.

Everyone here meant something to her,
They each had a role inside her life.
Who had she been most important as,
A mother, a daughter, or wife?

Suddenly I turn around in fear
A sight takes away my breath
There he stands with a rope in his hands,
Smirking at her undeserving death.

He begins to laugh so hard
As if it echoed in my head
His laughter called to me alone
And raised the living dead.

There is no blood on him
But it's written on his face.
He is the murderer, the father, the husband,
Trying to put her in her place.

She has loved him so terribly
That she couldn't find the right words
I wanted to show him what it's like
To feel like everything hurts.

The room becomes instantly chilly,
Once more, I turn around with fear.
The room is empty except for me
And the corpse that cries blood tears.

Her eyes are black and open
And she looks me sadly in the eyes,
I tremble when she grabs my hands,
I shiver when she sighs.

Her eyes are hollow and empty,
They contain no trace of blue.
She whispers eerily into my ear,
"This isn't me, it's you."

"This is what you are, my dear.
What you let him do.
You are not me right now,
But it is I who is you."

Her golden hair shifted slightly
To reveal a ghastly sight.
Her skin is torn, beaten and red
Her neck said there was no fight.

She took my hands in hers
Her strength was weak but strong
She smiled and suddenly I realized,
It was my funeral all along.