I do wonder,
What plays in the head of a dead man?
As all warmth finally fades,
What regretful dirge,
What orchestral round of applause,
A decapitation by piano strings,
A bowstring run across the jugular,
It’s all static cremating your brain,

The reaper hums a gloomy tone in your ear,
It’s an aural kill-switch,
As the lights finally bleed out,
Will it be an elegy for a lifes mediocrity?
Or a celebratory crescendo?
Either way it will be your final song,
And there shall be no celebration,
Only the void.

Comments
  1. A somber tonality to this one.

  2. Carol anne says:

    another cool poem! Well done my friend! ❤

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