Your Passion Play

It seems nobody ever listened to you,
But you didn't know how they'd cope without you,
Will your sacrifice play it's lament in their ears?
Or will nobody even care?

All alone again, in your living room,
You found you had no one to turn to,
So you confided in your self, your loneliness,
As the tears streamed down your face.

And you read out your note to the audience,
Your heartfelt rendition of a dead romance,
With a cocktail of crushed pills and alcohol,
This was to be your final curtain call.

The curtain's came down on your passion play,
No time to perform an encore today,
The audience has deserted you anyway,
Got bored with your melancholy rants and raves.

And the world's still rotating without you,
Applauding the waste of a misplaced youth.
While the preacher sang his psalm in a murmur,
The gravediggers lowered you under.

And no one cared a jot as you faded away,
They didn't even read your arbituary,
And you left the world like Eleanor Rigby,
Cold and alone in an unmarked grave.

A single rose marks where you lay in the grass,
With only said rose as your epitaph,
And the crows caw their mourning laugh,
Isn't it sad that no tears were shed?