Agony Of The Dead
I rest upon my grave
Among withered flowers,
Whom I never held close,
My only companions
Now, who aren’t so morose.
I rest upon my grave
In deep, abysmal peace,
Although, I would rather
Console my little son
Mourning his dead father.
I rest upon my grave,
Dry-eyed in memory
Of once a handsome man
Parading his presence
Before his entire clan.
I rest upon my grave
A mere guise of myself
On a hard earthy bed
Sought after when alive,
Superfluous when dead.
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