Deadline Level

Other losses haven’t taught anything

So we wait until the funeral

Pretend things would have been different

Oh my go back in time

Do what I should have done but you know I was busy

Ain’t too busy bashing my fist into concrete, aftermath

Creator shaking head at my shame games I own all blame

Redeeming time incorrectly

Photographs mocking every second

Obituaries spitting thick tears in my eyes

No surprise, ultimately mirrors provide previews

Unfortunately, no redo

Angels screaming what are they waiting for

We love dead phone lines, inaccessible doors.