Lucky me,I get to sit here and watch everyone I love die,My mother,My grandmother,Me.Lucky me,I get to sit here and watch people fall apartLucky me,I get to sit here and die with them
Every day is exactly the same,I get up and get dressed,I talk to all the people who secretly hate me,I drone on through school,Then I get home,I sleep till it’s night,Then sleep hours more,I wake up again,And I put on my clothes,I go through the same thing as the day before,It gets a bit old
When was the last time I was happy,Really truly happy,I can’t think of a time,Is that sad?Is it bad?I’m content I guessBut not happyNever happyWhat is happy?
Did you forget I was here,I’m just a shadow again,No one notices my tears,Not even my friends,Did you forget I exist,Its okay I do too,I can make a long list,Of the things I’ve been through,To the brink of death,I still haven’t returned,And I won’t forget,The lesson I’ve learned
Take a hold nowOn the silver handles here,Six silver handles,One for each of his old pals.Take holdAnd lift him down the stairs.Put him on the rollersOver the floor of the hearse.Take him on the last haul,To the cold straight house.The level even house,To the last house of all.The dead say nothingAnd the dead know muchAnd the dead hold under their tonguesA locked-up story.
I am not the black cat.There were four of us;my grandmother,a black cat,a myth,and I.My grandmother oftentold us a myth.When you are ill, she said,if a black catcomes and sits on your bedit means that youwill die soon.I was only six,seriously ill.Our black cat
He wakes, who never thought to wake again,Who held the end was Death. He opens eyesSlowly, to one long livid oozing plainClosed down by the strange eyeless heavens. He lies;And waits; and once in timeless sick surmiseThrough the dead air heaves up an unknown hand,Like a dry branch. No life is in that land,Himself not lives, but is a thing that cries;An unmeaning point upon the mud; a speckOf moveless horror; an Immortal OneCleansed of the world, sentient and dead; a flyFast-stuck in grey sweat on a corpse's neck.I thought when love for you died, I should die.It's dead. Alone, most strangely, I live on.