The fortune of a fool

Stop breathing, a concept foretold many times.
Stay vigilant, or else doubt will grasp you tight.
A simple sentence and yet it holds something more.
Little did they know their words were torn,
torn with something,
someone at their feet. 
Under their noses, was whom 
they seeked.

Roses are red, violets are violet,
don't let recent memory deceive you.
Violets are blue.
Blindly.

Something small, hang on.
so that when you let go,
they won't be singing
your funeral song.