Dark Matter

life is dark and then we die

This life isn’t at all what it seems

The fairy tale doesn’t have a happy ending

The worms made sure of that

Wiggling in and out of my corpse

Dirt piles on my yellow bones

The earth sinks down to the depths of hell


Boney fingers claw at me

Pulling me farther down

The smell of burning flesh is stagnant in the air

The pungent aroma hangs in the air

Like the smell of roses in a garden

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed