Its All My Fault

Every morning I walk your dog
Even though you promised you would.
Every day I see the fog
And always wish you could.
Every morning I make us toast
But you, you never eat.
And every Sunday I cook a roast
Now your portions given to Benny.
I never ever drive now.
My hearts still full of dread.
I cry as I walk to the cemetry.
Because of me your dead.