Dying Inside The Seed

I see no point in dwelling in our thoughts.
I scare the flipping wings off your skin.
Owls cannot be awake at this night as well;we just fought.
You are clearly misunderstood when you take your gin.

Slide through this hole;
Come hide at the back of my grave.
It does not matter now; you're no longer whole.
You are dead and safe.

You are calmly stashed in the root of the unloving cave.
They have cursed you, and spat on you.
Keep quiet and never be found, you dirty slave.
I'll find a shovel and have your head shaved.