Tainted Depths
Sour ground ...
burial lots, where the worms defile
Tear moistened dirt
hardened by fretting hearts,
fearful of the pulse pendulum clock
Time moves mournfully on a crooked drop,
six-feet motion of tainted tick-tock
The skeleton key
can’t open casket thoughts
bound by
an unrepentant lock
Half-life decay of terminal haste
has an unsweetened
paper taste —
Rectangular sawdust placed in toxic space,
as gravedigger eyes spark
an undertaker gaze
A mushroom cloudy view into
the catacomb maze
Everyone must darkly go
on this nether journey;
tho’ some will choose to make
an urn-stipulated,
vain crematorium flee
Letting their ashes of demise
boast a false victory
4-24-21
Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2021
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