Under the birthstones in the carcass yard is where the flesh tombs lie. Decomposing for three long years. Eradicating memories, dreams and fears. Becoming next, the black gloop treacle of putrification. Now bones, just old bones is the remain of what was once, a spirit with a name.
Poetry by Kaydee.
Birthstones = gravestones Carcass yard = graveyard Flesh tomb = a body (alive or dead)