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Aug 2019
A conscious corpse gently thuds as is sustains with but a few precious sips of air to delay it's deteriorating state.

Which words proved too fatal?
Those too often written by loved ones across already cold and clammy skin?
Where a sick smile did mar deaths boastful grin.

Or?
Were black words penned bleeding red why it seems so eternally condemned
to dance 'round with darkness in the festering ground to surrender its sanity in an unmarked grave

No!
What proved too fatal, too deep
we're those words etched into bone
that were completely it's own.
It's own plague of pestilence
that seeped from self-carved scars
that mutilated more than flesh


But, Why did you only bare witness to a souls  lonely demise
observing the light leave through it's slowly emptying eyes

So now I ask you!
Was it  not your lifeless embrace that did erase
a once quickened flame that suffocated in sorrow.

Are you not to blame?
for the blood red stain
soaked into that cold clammy skin.

Do you not feel remorse that HIS condemned soul now sleeps on your calloused heart
                           without end...

and while you bare the weight of HIS peace
isn't it you that  now becomes
the conscious corpse breathing in only
shallow sips of precious air,
looking on with newly empty eyes
for the warm embrace you yourseld did deny.
William de klerk
Written by
William de klerk  18/M/South Africa
(18/M/South Africa)   
206
   G Alan Johnson
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