The
Blood dries.
And flakes away.
Your
Flesh; once pink.
-Now turns grey.
I'm laying here in the red.
Playing back
those words you said.
Your hair turned White.
-Lips so blue.
Now tell me what's a boy to do?
I guess
I'll bury you beneath
the garden
Where the soils'
Sure not to harden.
I can dig you up
after spring.
-And thank you for
the food you bring.
You've done more in death,
than you did in life.
So I think I'll keep you
-undead wife.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 8:31 AM UTC
The
Blood dries.
And flakes away.
Your
Flesh; once pink.
-Now turns grey.
I'm laying here in the red.
Playing back
those words you said.
Your hair turned White.
-Lips so blue.
Now tell me what's a boy to do?
I guess
I'll bury you beneath
the garden
Where the soils'
Sure not to harden.
I can dig you up
after spring.
-And thank you for
the food you bring.
You've done more in death,
than you did in life.
So I think I'll keep you
-undead wife.
