Deaths and deaths, a millions of deaths,

I ask my heart if to buy just one or buy the shop of wreaths!

A death for every season,

A death for every reason,

And then people wonder my cast,

Why do I always fall to past?

Thou can’t feel the spikes in me,

It’s meant for me, just the dreaded me,

The remedy I don’t know of,

And even if I do, if I will ever take it, am not sure of.

Leave me alone, it’s my battle de grace;

It’s me who has to fight it, just need one coup de grace!