I’ve found myself in a funeral. A funeral for my life. A funeral of the past and future. Each of their respective caskets at their respective places.
Covered in black silk with an honours emblem to each of them, a white rose gently placed beneath it to emphasize each part thereof.
The funeral for my past was okay, not too many tears were shed. Nothing but grief filled the void I’ve created.
The funeral for my present was a bit dodge. They even had candles to symbolise life and life in abundance for that matter. However, where is the life if it’s being sucked out of you on a constant.
Well lastly. The funeral for my future was grey. It was bland and it had people tugged tight in rags. They want to escape but they can’t. They know what they’ve done. The inescapable lies sitting around the table. Awkward. This is a place of immense silence and just more and more lies.
So the question left. Why have the funerals when they’re meant to be a celebration of life in the first place?