Death Comes to Us All

I'm full of a sinking feeling

like having the weight of these

thought in my legs, while trying

to outrun my conscience as it

shadows my every step.

And my thoughts will always be

slower, slower than my tongue in

teaching me regret for what I've done.

And I'm sorry;

I reserve these feelings for myself and if I could

only wash my hands clean.

You know I'm sorry but I can't keep

this to myself and I wish I could

only keep my head clear

I'm full of sinking feeling

like having the weight of these thoughts.

I see the idea like the dirt under

my nails only really in my head;

it's only in my head.