Ossuary Vellum Void

Here's to him, the one I used to be
I poured the salt, I let the whole thing burn
No wreath, no words, no final courtesy
This is the grave from which he won't return

He begged for pardon he was never owed
He learned to shrink to fit inside the room
He kept apologising for the space he took
He mistook the silence for a tune

He wore politeness like a borrowed coat
He swallowed every word he should've said
He kept a ledger of the debts he thought he owed
And paid them off until the debt was dead

The frost is set, the sentence has been read
There's nothing left to save, there's nothing left to dread

Here's to him, the one I used to be
I poured the salt, I let the whole thing burn
No wreath, no words, no final courtesy
This is the grave from which he won't return

He kept the peace while swallowing the blade
He called it patience, called it being kind
He let them redraw every line he made
And thanked them for the mercy of their mind

He answered questions he was never asked
He wore the guilt of things he didn't do
He kept a portrait of himself, immaculately masked
And called that photograph the honest truth

No final word, no plea, no looking back
The last light dims, and something in me cracks

Here's to him, the one I used to be
I poured the salt, I let the whole thing burn
No wreath, no words, no final courtesy
This is the grave from which he won't return

No more bowing
No more shame
I buried every borrowed name
No more asking
No more room
I am the fire that lit his tomb

Here's to him, the one I used to be
I poured the salt, I let the whole thing burn
No wreath, no words, no final courtesy
This is the grave from which he won't return