After I'm Buried In A Common Grave
After I'm buried in a common grave,
simply marked by a grey headstone made
of granite, no human voice will rave;
isolated as in life: I won't condemn fate!
Death is the end of everything held
precious, esteemed, loved or left unsaid;
it's a withered tree without any spring,
who can enjoy life without singing?
Many emperors struggled for power,
one conquered all, but died young;
who's after glory and great valor:
to get praises or revoke wrong?
After I'm buried in a common grave
without enormous riches to be claimed:
was my humbleness worthless to declare,
if nobody listened and came to my aid?
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2024
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