The Song's Working Title Was "Why Did It Die?"

Though I might try I can not write what was just recently thrown away. First it must drown. Rot. Suffer. Decay. Wither in absence of the one who let go. Then I'll gaze at that death preserved, some voodoo shrunken head at which I can piss on in great relief.

Until I tinkle, in apropos of the current hurt (yay) I'll leave it best to the Beatles to sing For No One.