fauxcroft

I talk about little talk

About our tiny scars,

I whisper to the wise

About who we truly are,

And the monsters that are stalking us

That lives within our heads,

Invading our dreams at night

That will carry us when we are dead,

Across the river Styx

And that will pay the ferryman,

And see us settle peacefully

In the realms of the sandman,

And the tiny scars that we suffer

Will be spoken in little talk,

And represent the love in knowing

Death carries no fear at all,

For we celebrate our birth

And the beginning of life,

But we mourn the passing of death

As if there will be no more light,

But the truth is it’s a blessing

As we transcend to a new plain,

That brings an end to suffering

And so much futile pain,

And we wear the tiny scars

That we collected along the way,

And celebrate the little talks

About our future triumphant days,

In the new realms with the monsters

That we mistook in our lives

That was not there to hurt us,

But to be right by our side

To be our help, our guide and ride,

To each transcendental journey

To the other places we will travel to in death and life.