One. Death
Spending a lifetime
before the big reveal.
Though constantly decaying
we still cannot (skin) peel.
Held captive in our own flesh tomb
we wait for a sign saying
'Mortuary Room'
Two. Birth
You've served your time,
you're free to go.
Oh yeah it's your (death) day,
that's just so you know.
But didn't I die
or was that just a lie?
Next you'll tell me I'm conscious
and that I can fly.
Three. Life
You're free.
Go fly!
Poetry by Kaydee
Dec 4, 2018
Dec 4, 2018 at 9:06 PM UTC
One. Death
Spending a lifetime
before the big reveal.
Though constantly decaying
we still cannot (skin) peel.
Held captive in our own flesh tomb
we wait for a sign saying
'Mortuary Room'
Two. Birth
You've served your time,
you're free to go.
Oh yeah it's your (death) day,
that's just so you know.
But didn't I die
or was that just a lie?
Next you'll tell me I'm conscious
and that I can fly.
Three. Life
You're free.
Go fly!
Poetry by Kaydee
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