tiny broken pieces and a faint memory of you

cologne of the dead-ninety six

and when I left the so called funeral,
the cologne of the dead stuck against me
I was grateful for it never did left me;
but I was furious for I feel the dead with me.
it was regretful,
the things I did.
and I don't wanna be reminded
a person died without me knowing,
and I don't wanna be reminded
I pick up another cologne,
and filled the air with it's fragrance
I would like to forget—
and drown in the smell
of my ignorance