The sky is blue

Looking in you wouldn’t a clue

Of how this procession

Feels made for two

Twin blank expressions

The grass is green

Alive as I, I mean

As I look to her still

At just over fifteen

Jealous on the hill

My dress is black

A row besides the plaque

Feeling I’ll and distant

As if in a flashback

A voice whispers insistent

The grave is brown

Six feet down

Drawing me near

Towards the bone made crown

Deep below the ground

The sky is blue

Looking in you wouldn’t a clue

Of my wish to go through

With that dark wish so taboo

Of being next in the queue

My skin is pale

Like a ghost from folktale

Breath becoming stale

As I dream of a nail

Through my own coffin impales

Let me past the veil

The sky is blue