Honor the DeadA Poem by ChloeHands are dipping down, down into the wet soil their fingers grasp the dirt and carry it above the ground the soil is spread over the bodies as they are burried in their boxes their flesh is rotting, bones dissolving to dust; ashes to ashes, dust to dust
Their eyes are sunken in they have been closed for people that never want to see again those cold eye balls behind their lids the people; the 'loved ones' do not want to love them any longer, they want to remember them and bury them in wet soil where they will be cold and alone with a rock above their head, no knife. © 2008 ChloeAuthor's Note
Reviews
|
Stats
248 Views
7 Reviews Added on March 22, 2008 AuthorChloeSeattle, WAAboutI am a 16-year-old young writer and I live in Seattle, Washington. I began writing when I was about nine. Then, I began to play some guitar and I realized that I had talent for music also. So poetry a.. more..Writing
Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
|