no one to tell

my story. is silent

the grave that hath rung its drollful bell

and only I prevailed



‘neath the soil of under-tree

the maggots swarm upon the bod

tasting lies and secrets sweet

forever to be left untold



except in whispers ‘twixt the dead

as they settle their accounts

murmur the last lines of

autobiography. sending for rest

to come.



when my time catches up

with me, to rend the youth off

my age-old bones

the story will be silent always

to remain so



for I shall not reveal it, no

nor will my spirit let it fly

it will be kept within the flesh and separated thus

there will be left

no one to tell



my story is silent.