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It is too late for that my dear,

the stain has already set.

Just pull a chair or table over it

to hide my wicked sin.

Let it become the white elephant,

the secret that everyone knows

but no one dares to speak about.

Whispers pass through the halls

but are not acknowledged,

acknowledgement would make it true

and we all know that the truth will never do!

Instead the lies about my death

circle round and round

like an adult version of the game telephone;

a fictionalization of it all,

not even a scrap of the story is real.

Let it be known that in death as well as life,

I am nobody of any importance.

I existed in a life that was useless,

dying with a death too damaging to be true.

I empty myself out slowly,

drip by drip by drip,

spilling my tears from everywhere.

I cry steadlily from my arms,

warm red tears.

Puddles form around me,

encircling my body,

protecting me from your glares.

I do not hear your words any longer,

they reverbate and are distorted,

lose their meanings and are gone.

Your feelings are distant and unreachable

as I slip farther into the dark.

Before you find me,

I will already be gone.