Hypocrisy of Grief

When I breathe my last, and my soul takes flight, You'll see the tears, the feigned sorrow, the hypocrisy in sight. Those who disliked me, who never lent a hand, Will eulogize me, with words so grand. They'll contribute to the coffin, the food, the flowers too, But when I lived, when I needed them, what did they do? Not a single hand was raised, not a single voice was heard, No visits, no kind words, no love that was deserved. They'll say I was good, I was great, but it's all a lie, For when I walked among them, they passed me by. They'll give me flowers when I'm gone, but not when I was alive, Oh, love me now, show care now, while my heart still thrives. A dead body can't see, can't feel, can't know, The tears that fall for me, when I'm gone, don't show. I don't need help in my coffin, I need it when I'm alive, Cry now when you see me suffering, help me now when I strive. They don't talk to you, they don't ask how you are, They see you struggling, and they just stare. They take pictures, laugh, and mock your pain, Your tears make them help, indeed they pray for your downfall in vain. But when you die, you become good, and they'll be the first to claim, They'll buy food, flowers, and eulogize you with fame