(Hope) Is Just Another Word with a Hole in It

Funeral blues
Even dirt weeps
Blooming exit
Brought to a freeze

I have never bothered to look
Inside myself
To find myself
On scribbled notes

Every flower
Thinks of me
My pollination
Resembles debris

I have never bothered to look
Inside myself
To find myself
On scribbled notes

I have never bothered to look
Inside myself
To find myself
On scribbled, cryptic notes

A thousand faces
Not one could replace
A single soul
Consumed by waste

A thousand mirrors
Reflect disgrace
A house of cards
Engulfed in flames

A thousand faces
Not one could replace
A single soul
Consumed by waste

An off-white lie
That's come undone
Composing suffering
That fall on ears of no one

Of no-one
Of no-one