Your essence is of

Twisted guilt;

For you only regret the method

In which you made the blossom wilt.

Why so do you morn for a dog

Who's burried in the backyard?

Because the marks on the corpse are decay

Instead of bullet wounds and scars?

You feel guilty

Because your dog died of natural causes

It didn't die by your hand so

Your count of dead now isn't flawless.

You guilt from missed opportunity

You guilt for selfish reasons

You lack your common dignity

You're cold death in all four seasons.