by C Ross
of grief.
An end to suffering
but a bleeding wound to those you leave behind.
Flesh Life
Bury me under a tree,
So I may be free from fake tears
and let the sun burn clean my melancholy
Cast my ashes upon the sea,
So I may care for nothing
and nothing to care for me.
Drop me in a tomb,
Let me be forgotten
and my name fade into dust.
Six Foot Slumber
A gravestone is the desperate scratch marks of a man dragged tooth and nail by the Reaper.
Remember me, he begs.
Dates, beginning and end
and quotes said by better men.
The ether takes all, your pattern is not long nor honoured in this world. So set out your ripples in the stream and be content.
What is that I hear from the crowd? Is Life overrated?
Why wouldn’t it be, it is all we’ve ever had.
