This is a crisis of faith Spiraling, denial of self Cornered by decades of pain No one blames you for digging your grave With your final remnants of breath They still know your name Did you stretch your hands Through the window pane And feel the rain At your fingertips For the last time All you ever wanted to be All the things, you whispered to me Gone Consigned to oblivion Cyanide in your throat Swallowing until you see god Leaving lovers to perform Skin graft poetry In remembrance Leaving lovers to perform Skin graft poetry In remembrance