We Don't Use That Name Around Here Anymore

I'm pressure on the soft spot of the skull. c procession in the winter, a heart full of failure.
Your very own burial.
Once we prayed for Death, we often begged for silence.
Now I only wish to be clean of this grief.
Your very own burial, let there be shame.
cffordably priced. Four sided or six?
I swear I've set us back. Your very own burial.
I'm the water that we swim in, flailing and panicked.
Your very own burial.
Let there be shame.