There is such a gilded shine on those who die
As though the dead are donuts displayed in a glass case
Only they collect dew and tears in a wood box
There\'s nothing sweet about their departure
Much like the crumbs left over after donuts
The powdered sugar stains our fingertips
Do we stain ourselves with regret when life dies?
We lick both off greedily in the end.
What sweet poison to distract us from pure sorrow
Yes, when the dead die, think of pastries
It\'s much easier to eat our feelings than face them.