THE FUNERAL

Silence dripping out from the skies,
everyone steps behind as he arrives,
with flowers in hands,
covered of suits and ties,
Screams of life for a saviour's stand,
but all that comes back is an echo,
chasing an unheard lie to truth,
forcing the time to get slow.
Sorrow runs out of words,
yet he gotta stand for his home,
but no one there is concerened,
no one gets the grief welcomed.
And so fades the last light,
his face dead white as snow,
legs tremble as if a quake,
he hits the ground, his self being low.
Thinking it had never happened,
if GOD were so damn real!
or maybe it would have,
for HE remains angry, selfish and cruel.
Clasping the hands together,
he runs out of sense,
words fall short and so does breath,
sitting there alone, lingering to death,
To have, to love, to live, he never saw,
but he'll see it in dreams of blood forever,
forever till he knocks at doors of death great,
and so yet again, he stands up to get raped.




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