As I mourn the death of my undead mother Mascara stains my pillow Moist teardrops gather Like dew on a funeral morn Just one more wrong turn On this highway we call flesh One more judgment call To be wasted on cowards My story will become Just one more volume to Line the Fates shelves It’s a question we all must face Our destiny waiting the mind’s call Does looking for the craven escape Make the wind a little more bearable To extrapolate my tale and conform it to normalicy Would be like tearing off the wings of the vulture And stapling the grotesque sample To a wedding dove No, to reveal the heart’s crimson blood is too shallow For the dark won’t appear as chilling When you discover a candle amongst the obscurity Yet again, back to my loss For grievances make a person so They ask why I mourn while she still endures I ask what’s in a breath When her mentality becomes less Than that which one can fathom