Withered leaves fall
Winter spreads icy fingers
through my heart, through my life
my blood running cold
Alas, if I were but dead

A folly, young heart inexperienced
my mind won’t of reasoning
I let go, of the part that made me whole
In half I lie, sinking six feet below ground
Alas, if I were but dead

Prayer wrought no peace
loving, hating, losing, suffering
Peace, I scoff, what of peace
to a soul long gone?
Alas, if I were but dead

Memories, lovingly preserved
flashes of light and laughter, sweet music
of no use to a heart torn with guilt
to a mind wallowing in loneliness
Alas, if I were but dead.