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Let us speak now, ghost to ghost, and raise a toast
to whatever voices we hear and cannot name.
The dead marking time, not yet spoiled with rhyme;
unrecognized and corrupted just the same.
I know you'll wait until you have a vision of a gate
of wrath, or another illness taking you to the other side.
And only now does it matter who you have intentions to flatter,
or what other convention you've consistently defied.

Let us speak now, face to face, in this finishing place
where every line we cross is a shadow of what came before.
You can manufacture peace but I'll promise no release
from this hysterical retreat, or these emotional wars.
You've known dreadful nights undone, be sure there's more to come,
and they'll guide your progress like the light of stars.
But if the end is here, then I swear to shed a tear
for each and every one of your needless scars.

Let us speak now, prince to king, so I may bow and sing
my final song for a world we both knew and shared.
I swear if I find myself lost, I'll still make up the cost
we paid for those nights we were caught unprepared.
I still remember it all, how could I not help but recall
the way those dreams we nutured tasted on our tongue.
We'll never be there again, but upon memory I will depend
for that glimpse, that image of us together when we were young.

Dear Hillenburg,

Your last two lines were the most poignant for me. That is not a discount of all that preceded them, rather perhaps a validation for their being the last two lines.

~Lizzytysh

I never reached the last 2 lines as I am rather busy