Yea. To The End He Said

It was never my idea to get married
Parentals talked me into it
Now my husband needs to be buried
The guilt just wont quit
So I fed him a little cyanide
It was better then him hanging around my side

I don’t remember how they prescribed it
Some kind of illness
It would take a bitter twist
It makes me some kind of vileness
Worthless, Useless
Just like his

And as the meds swirl round and round
Drowning, Drowning
I would drown
Into black, or something like that

Twisted, that’s what they said
Never claimed to be right in the head
As if we were attached at the hip
I accidentally let it slip
It called out to me.
Screaming and pleading to be poured
Cyanide at the reception
Talk about a new reputation

Marry me
Bury Me
That’s what he said
Whispered it against my head
And I did as he said

Dead, Dead
Just like the rest of them
‘Murder! Murder” they would scream
All point their fingers at me
But no.
I said no
It wasn’t me. It couldn’t be
I wasn’t right in the head
It wasn’t my fault he ended up dead

Jail time wasn’t worth it
I am so worthless
I killed my groom
As he lay beside me in loom