via Bury


Pale skin, ghastly, translucent, blue.

Cold to the touch, the body withers,

Lying perfectly at rest in the casket.

Dirt piled over polished wood;

On satin and silk, the body rots.

Silence encases the eerie tomb,

Buried deep within the earth.

Here, I lie, till the maggots come

And eat away my decaying flesh.

I repose until I decompose,

The eulogy a distant whisper,

In the garden of the worms.