People who die
Aren't always mottled flesh
Rigor mortis
And full of formaldehyde
The dead are not all in the ground
Fermenting and bloated
Stinking and gaseous
Slipping black skin like greasy banana peels
The departed are not all in Heaven
Rattled skeletons left behind
Long and short bones laid out straight
Plastic eyelids covers long popped aside
They are the ones with dead cold eyes
Empty hearts and clenching hands
Emotions extinguished like matchsticks
Left out in the rain
They are out of tears
They are out of love
They are out of time
They might as well be buried bones.
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 7:50 PM UTC
People who die
Aren't always mottled flesh
Rigor mortis
And full of formaldehyde
The dead are not all in the ground
Fermenting and bloated
Stinking and gaseous
Slipping black skin like greasy banana peels
The departed are not all in Heaven
Rattled skeletons left behind
Long and short bones laid out straight
Plastic eyelids covers long popped aside
They are the ones with dead cold eyes
Empty hearts and clenching hands
Emotions extinguished like matchsticks
Left out in the rain
They are out of tears
They are out of love
They are out of time
They might as well be buried bones.
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