Dead

The lights are out,
the day is done.
No longer can I
See the sun

The dirt is heavy,
so are their hearts.
Dark merchants now
push their carts

My family weeps,
my friends cry,
Enemies smirk,
Lover asks why.

The box is closed,
so are my eyes.
Dirt hits box;
the tremors die.

Mourners are gone,
my friends go home.
But here I stay;
I lay alone.

My flesh: it spoils;
my brains: they melt.
My eyes are gone,
and so is my pelt.

The critters swarm
the maggots squirm.
Flys they come;
there are the worms.

The box decays
And so do I.
Yes, I'm dead,
and soon, you'll die.

Author's Note

Musings on death. A wee bit rough in my eyes, so comments and criticisms greatly appreciated as always.

Reviews

[s y e]

This is really well thought out and structured. Your wording is great and you play with words, too. Well done Will.

~ Noodle.

[Will]

Thanks, Noodle

[Baby Ricochet]

In the end we're worm food. Good poem Will

[Will]

Thanks, BR

[Rita L. Sev]

Well, this is certainly a sobering thought for a Saturday morning! Very well thought out, and well written - a destiny we all share, and worth pondering.

The flow here:
My eyes are gone,
no longer is there a pelt.

Try: My eyes are gone,
And so is my pelt OR As is my pelt

[Will]

We're on the same brain wave, I just couldn't figure out how to execute that. Thanks, Rita!