Bury me down,
deep in the ground.
It's dark and it's cold,
for only the Earth to hold.
Bury me there,
for it's only fair.
As she promises spring
and winter she brings.
She's too much like me,
cycles of winter, you see.
Down, I should be.
Too deep to become a tree.
Too shallow to freeze.
Bury me far-sent,
for the sea to lament.
She's a beast left to thrash,
she'll take my body to crash.
I write poems and cry,
I sing out to the sky,
and she billows her wind
and cries, too, over my sins.
I'm too much like her.
And it's too much to endure,
the storm that I've spurred.
Wash away - habitual poseur,
drown them now - my life's saboteur.
I'm truthfully not entirely happy with this one. The first few lines were dancing on my tongue while I poured my coffee, but it doesn't seem to come out as beautifully in writing. I'm not a massive fan of short jagged lines. At least not this short. I feel like this entire piece is good, but could be more. Perhaps I'll come back and rework it. Try to expand the lines and put in a more complex rhyme scheme or actually give it a formal meter.