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Last Life
May 4, 2009
You see her sitting there
Broken and unwanted
You don’t care
She is used and abused.
She sits on her gravestones
Listening to the ghosts moans
As the beetles sit on their thrones
Smelling the decaying bones.
She remembers the men panting
Tossing her corpse into the coffin
Then hearing them ranting
As they ran away.
She starts to sing
As she cuts the last string
Wishing she could cling,
To one last thing.
She picks the roses
Tasting her blood
As the coffin closes
She bellows out her last scream.
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