My Funeral Mind

Oh my funeral mind , that I have inherited 
You struck me away, starstruck, awestruck, Some may say. 
My funeral mind, whom always dances on the graves of each passion of mine, each passion that comes to mind. 
You shoved me in the dirt, dug me in the dirt, buried me in the dirt. 
Oh my funeral mind, speaking of the stars as if they are ours. Stars in the eyes, stars in the skies, stars on each and every part of my body. 
My dead mind, my debt mind, my low-budget-clearance-sale mind. 
You are abnormal, I wish you were replaceable, I want each and every thought to be disposable. 
The shackles in the dark, the pains in the heart, the bars in the cold night- keeping me here, when will you hear, my funeral mind. 
If you looked, you would find, the wicked desires, the wretched spires, the ever so pointy spikes that keep my sins logged into the seams of you, my funeral mind. 
Oh, my funeral mind, I am sure you won't mind, that I wish you were a lively mind. 
One with trees, And bees, and leaves. 
Where the rustle would be from wind and not from the movement of the bedsheets as the girl sells herself on the streets. 
Where the rain would come, but the light would follow. Where the moon loved the sun and the sun just couldn’t get enough. 
But oh, my funeral mind, I guess that is not how it works, because your humour is dark, this room is dark and my heart is too dark, I am dark, the sky is dark, the water is dark, and everything is dark.
Oh my funeral mind, that I have inherited, 
You really are crazy, aren't you?