Forget, Live, Die, Repeat

They said that the coffin was the Pandora’s Box of a modern era.
But if that is true,                                          Then where
Is the hope                                                  That was promised?
I do not see it                                                In the eyes
(Dead, dead eyes)                                        Of my brothers.
I do not see it                                                In my mother’s hair
Which they say                                            Still grows
Even in death.                                              And what about me?
The last of the living                                      Watching plague spread
From fingertips                                              To toes.
It is my burden to know                                  How many days I have left.
I can see it written                                        In the ink
Of my poisoned blood                                    Which paints my veins
A steely black.                                              I have seen the end of an age
And the second flood                                    Sent to bury us
With a pitiless smile.                                      But when the children
(Unaffected)                                                  Grow and forget
They may someday discover                          A mysterious coffin
Where I have both hidden                              And sealed myself away
In order to give them                                      A little more time.
The only hope in this box                              Is that which I bear
In that I am lost                                            To their innocent hands.
Yet, as I die, still I wonder on how many times we have been reset.