Green

You were young, Budded in your prime And taken from your peers In an ancient homicidal Tradition. By the efforts of many men You have been brought to this Fold, this spiritual awakening. In death, your red hair still glistens In contrast to your clammy face, And it is beautiful. God, damn any likened mortician who attempts To alter your complexion. I remove the plastic bag that Keeps you from decaying, And all indignation is cast away As I tear you to pieces And set you on fire.