Suicide And Other Comforts
I pace, alone
In a place for the dead
Overcome by woe
And here, I've grown
So fond of dread
That I swear it's heaven
Oh sweet Mary,
Dressed in grief
Roll back the stone
With these words scrawled in a severed hand
Tears fall like shards of glass that band
In rivers, like sinners
Swept with me to join the damned
A
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