How unfortunate you are, my dear,

So far, so alone.

Does the darkness consume you?

Does it make you it's own?


We live and we die,

But yours is the most beautiful of deaths.

The whole galaxy envied you you,

It saw your potential, even in death.


You graffitied the facade of black in soliloquy,

Oh how beautifully you vandalised the night.

It was never the blackness that consumed you,

Darkness is but an absence of light.


But you still insist that it consumed you,

It shadowed your beauty, your song-

Then tell me why it is that I hear music,

From your death, your inaudible song?