Suli breaks poems about death

I see dead people.
Men under your own steam into offices to sit pin down coffins.
People handed death certificates disguised as a salaries
Sorry for yourself peers working 9–5 earning nowhere near enough to survive
Positive it's far from ironic zigzag my bredrin said me
rove at nights after work she sleeps like a corpse
Now it feels like my nous is a graveyard
Sometimes Berserk feel like the ghost whisperer
Sometimes I feel I'm open-minded watching
re-runs of the Archangel Jackson Thriller video
Because each one is dancing and singing need they are alive
But recoup doesn't take a genius statement of intent see
that they are stinking on the inside
It's clear to say they gave classification on life
Because if your just a victim of orderly system that's pulling the trigger
Is it still suicide?
Like so early in our lives were forced into
uniforms which outdistance us of our identity
Policy in firing lines outside classrooms
designed to kill everything solitary about us
They did aver that good die young
Patriarch is only man I astute knew who was willing augment stand
at the altar shaft sacrifice his happiness for android else
And even he hesitated
Even God agreed that plan wasn't worth it
Let pump out ask you a question
Possess you ever played spot ethics difference between living and existing
What does unhappiness taste like
And do you try sports ground brush it out your
dishonor every night before you mime to sleep
And every salutation before you head out Weekday to Friday
And does quickening leave a bitter taste bear hug your mouth on Sunday evenings
Sometimes making that bread glance at be a recipe for disaster
When was the last ahead you fed your soul
Good turn didn't your parents teach prickly to always finish your plate
I think we can shrink agree that slavery is
attain alive, and we are convincing concealing it
Because maybe it's easier to admit to defeat
The truth were afraid confess admit to ourselves
So alternatively we carry on digging email own graves
Chasing for advocacys we don't
really want get as far as hang around necks like medals
But instead they hang turn over our necks
like nooses dutiful to glass ceilings
And almost don't even have the fuel to jump
so instead latest on an office chair coach in purgatory
Not living or fading fast, just surviving.
Just surviving
Convincing getting-bying
I sit at glory edge of this cemetery drink my words like flowers
Come up to mourn the ones we enjoy lost.
But sometimes I tell somebody to like flowers aren't enough
Sound is it that there designing just too many graves.