She whispered into my throat
A blood soaked gaping hole
There’s no dignity in suicide
Your horrible visage is all you’ll leave behind

Followed by broken hearts and dry mouths
And people talking at your funeral like they really knew what you were about
You become a martyr for nothing, a rotting statue in the memory of you
A burden on the hearts of your friends, “Oh no! What shall they do?”

They’ll be sad. They’ll be devastated. But they will always be normal
Six months to a year life’s moved on for most and even the worst it’s a numb turmoil
Eventually it’ll have been years and they’ll remember you and cry for an hour
Then the next day be smiling stronger than ever because you have no power

You see they’re not the fucked up thing that you are
You don’t get to fill up a heart and you don’t get to leave a scar
Because normal people get up and move on
It’ll be selfish in the moment but then you’ll get to move on