Wretched, Rotten Children.

Making memories with a
dead man's favorite son.
Swapping teeth for a truce that will
surely be ruined and all but forgotten.
This place used to be so much more
than a place to bury your dead.
Cemetery.
Now it is just a house of pain
and a house of blood.
Influenced by a city morgue.
We were never nothing but worries
you dug up from where you buried us last.
The hatchet is finally in the ground,
But where is your precious shovel?
You shouldn't have promised yourself
you wouldn't cry at the end of this tragedy.
Call me when you've lost your only friends.
There is no shame in shedding tears.
But still you choose to swallow it back.
Hopeless and wild, we set the beast
you burdened out to freedom,
and never did we look back.
Time to stand up for the things
that matter most.
It is time you quit killing off your problems.
It is time to focus.
Hopeless blood feuds you've
grown over these last few years
The knife may kill, but it can't end me.
A simple sorry can not condone this tragedy.