Hushed consolation and whispered condolences;
A body in the coffin, and the choir spells my name;
My mother makes a speech, and my siblings all weep;
But I'm screaming from the aisle: I'm not dead, that isn't me!
I just can't seem to understand,
Everything had been perfect;
Death hasn't yet struck me but you're already burying me!
YOU ARE READING
VADE RETRO ME, SATANA.
PoetryVADE RETRO ME, SATANA [Get off my back, Satan.] Disclaimer: This story becomes progressively lighter as I do.
