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.
fauxcroft 