never lay me down,
in some flower bed
but rather leave me,
to die here instead
everything that I know,
all seems delusive
and the reasons I live,
are only excuses,
of the scars,
that were cut too deep,
into my soul,
I only want to,
be among those,
that don't live,
the ones called, dead,
were I can be accepted,
I want to be the children,
of the flies first meal,
I want to exist at the point,
were this body is worthless,
and kept prisoner under
the earth's surface,
and I am nothing more
than a soul, that roams
the earth, in peace.