Begging Me

It’s never a good idea to raise the dead, but a man must kill what he buries,

And since you buried us by the church, I’m done picking words like cherries.

I guess that’s alright, you just don’t have the time to reach out these days.

Hope you’re out there finding a younger fantasy to mold like fragile clay.

You know better than the rest what it feels like to sneak up on people like prey,

Go out of your way for years to build trust that’s easily smothered in a day.

You convinced me I was mean for questioning your righteous ways.

Now you tell your sleepy city that you weren’t even planning to stay.

Maybe I got it all wrong, maybe I should’ve paid more attention and money,

But I guess now we’ll never know, and I guess you’ll never find it all funny.

I’m just a buzzkill, just a stone you used to get closer to the grand prize.

I’m a wicked witch haunting people until they change up their old alibis.

You see, it’s not a good idea to raise the ones we put in black caskets.

The truth is knocking from the inside, and the curse is begging for me to cast it.

-Jackie