Bone by bone he falls apart.
Nothing to hold him together,
no nerves, no muscles, no heart.

He lies on the floor in a scattered pile,
dust slowly collecting bit by bit,
and still he wears that haunting smile.

He is not losing, nor can he win.
He is not happy, he cannot feel,
yet still he dons that mocking grin.

Most cry out for his poor lost soul,
knowing that he breathes no more
and never again will he be whole.

Alone I envy that pile of bones.
Never again will he suffer of hurt,
he has found his resting place among the stones.

Maybe my green eyes are being severe,
but my logic seems sound and concise,
and my feelings have never been clearer.

I do not desire to share his state,
I wish to breathe in the cool night air,
this is a stance I cannot overstate.

Though still his teeth and empty eyes
have gotten deep down under my skin
because his prying glare shall tell no lies.