Literature
The Celebration of Death
Surrounded by the crowd, (I am alone.)
Watching the service, I hear the Holy Man's voice
Echoing off the stone sidewalls attacking from all fronts,
Each word pierces through me like a silver bullet,
As I am just the beast they're meant to slay.
I could try to smile, but I'd be wearing a lie,
How could I, when he took her from me?
Now I'm expected to turn my cheek to the powers that be?
The Holy Puppet finally stops,
I stand, walking obliviously to the front,
Shuffling past all the teary, swollen-eyed people,
Until I reach her.
I stand over her body, and now I begin to cry,
I peer behind me, vision all blurry, black &
