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oh no not another dead body, i am so sick of digging graves, i am so sick of wearing black, i am so sick of other people crying about the loss of someone they never really noticed was alive in the first place, i am so sick of this but you aren't allowed to beg off a funeral, you aren't allowed to take leave of mourning, that's not how this works, there are standards to be upheld, expectations to follow, someone else's footsteps to tread in like they aren't the wrong size, the wrong pace, the wrong way, i am so sick of going the wrong way, of not being allowed to own up to being lost, of being lost, of not being allowed to own up, oh no, not another dead body, but we aren't allowed to own up, quick, pretend to mourn, pretend to be sad, pretend to cry at the funeral and no one will ever know you didn't give a damn, pretend to give a damn, you can fake anything if you try hard enough, you have to try, it's all about trying, i am so sick of trying, this is all so trying, were you trying to get someone killed? because it worked, it fucking worked, another dead body to add to the mass grave you always forget to leave flowers at, another mark to add to the tally, we're running out of space now, i am so sick of digging graves, i am so sick of all this dirt underneath my fingernails and how i have to pretend it's not there, i have to pretend i'm clean, i have to pretend i give a damn about the standards and the expectations and i don't give a damn about the evergrowing pile of dead bodies on our doorstep, don't you care? don't you see? another dead body, another dead body, they're dropping like flies, you're in denial about the existence of flies as well, like if you ignore them for long enough then they'll go away, but that's not how this works, they'll just start to rot, you have been rotting for years, you are rotten to the core, i am so sick of this, i am so sick of trying to pretend you aren't rotten to the core, i am sick to the stomach of some of the things you come out with, you are a murderer who won't confess and i have your fucking fingerprints, your fingerprints on the corpse's neck, the corpse's shoulder, were you trying to show them the way? were they not living up to your expectations? were they lost? were you showing them the door? did you slam it in their face? i am so sick of your face, i am so sick of you pretending to cry at the funerals you only attend so you don't look callous, everyone knows you are callous, everyone knows you can't beg off a funeral so you go and you pretend to be sad and you pretend to cry and i bet you wouldn't even know their name, would you? i bet you wouldn't even know how they died, except you do, because it was your hands around their neck, wasn't it? i am so sick of this, i am so sick of this, i am sick to death of you, oh no, look, another dead body

Description
oh no not another dead body, i am so sick of digging graves, i am so sick of wearing black, i am so sick of other people crying about the loss of someone they never really noticed was alive in the first place, i am so sick of this but you aren't allowed to beg off a funeral, you aren't allowed to take leave of mourning, that's not how this works, there are standards to be upheld, expectations to follow, someone else's footsteps to tread in like they aren't the wrong size, the wrong pace, the wrong way, i am so sick of going the wrong way, of not being allowed to own up to being lost, of being lost, of not being allowed to own up, oh no, not another dead body, but we aren't allowed to own up, quick, pretend to mourn, pretend to be sad, pretend to cry at the funeral and no one will ever know you didn't give a damn, pretend to give a damn, you can fake anything if you try hard enough, you have to try, it's all about trying, i am so sick of trying, this is all so trying, were you trying to get someone killed? because it worked, it fucking worked, another dead body to add to the mass grave you always forget to leave flowers at, another mark to add to the tally, we're running out of space now, i am so sick of digging graves, i am so sick of all this dirt underneath my fingernails and how i have to pretend it's not there, i have to pretend i'm clean, i have to pretend i give a damn about the standards and the expectations and i don't give a damn about the evergrowing pile of dead bodies on our doorstep, don't you care? don't you see? another dead body, another dead body, they're dropping like flies, you're in denial about the existence of flies as well, like if you ignore them for long enough then they'll go away, but that's not how this works, they'll just start to rot, you have been rotting for years, you are rotten to the core, i am so sick of this, i am so sick of trying to pretend you aren't rotten to the core, i am sick to the stomach of some of the things you come out with, you are a murderer who won't confess and i have your fucking fingerprints, your fingerprints on the corpse's neck, the corpse's shoulder, were you trying to show them the way? were they not living up to your expectations? were they lost? were you showing them the door? did you slam it in their face? i am so sick of your face, i am so sick of you pretending to cry at the funerals you only attend so you don't look callous, everyone knows you are callous, everyone knows you can't beg off a funeral so you go and you pretend to be sad and you pretend to cry and i bet you wouldn't even know their name, would you? i bet you wouldn't even know how they died, except you do, because it was your hands around their neck, wasn't it? i am so sick of this, i am so sick of this, i am sick to death of you, oh no, look, another dead body