I live in my own tomb.
No one knows where I lie.
Or that I have even been buried.
Or even that I died.
But did I ever really live?
I don't know.
I was never given a chance at anything.
Judged to be a threat.
Or judged to be lacking skills.
I was always torn wide open.
Letting caustic tears flow free.
Drowning me.
But no one ever saw what their careless
  words did or what damage was caused.
Not that it mattered.
I was already battered, beat and broken.
No more damage an be caused to what is
  already damaged.
What is already dead cannot be killed again.
But a scar does not mean healing.
A scar can always be torn open again.
Wounding once more.
With the possibility of infection ever present.
So I guess it can be said you can re-damaged
  and be re-killed after all.
Everything keeps going around.
Where it will stop I know not.
Just that where and when do exist.
And it's not a question of if.
I died a long time ago before I even lived.
So, here I live, ever tomb sweet tomb.


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