I’ve done something terrible
But the dead do not confess
I tried to escape, tried running away
Still wake up tired, miserable every day

I’ve done something terrible
But the dead do not confess
I hear the blood in my ears, beating its drum
Not quite dead yet, but almost done
I’m just one drop of an endless rain
Tried to stop it pouring out of me

I’ve done something terrible
But the dead do not confess
I’m a feather floating down to you
I’m a broken body, torn in two
Somewhat damaged, somewhat fixed
The tragedy is I won’t be missed
I’m a pebble on a drought struck shore
Eroded by what came before
If I confess am I not then dead
Or does it simply mean I’m not done dying yet

I’ve done something terrible
But the dead do not confess

_{Jun 8, 2024}