Bones
This is my twenty fourth dark poem in the series inspired by Dharrsheena.
This is my Twenty Fourth dark poem in the series inspired by Dharrsheena.
Eventually, all that is left is the bones.
The music I have chosen is "Slow Death" by The Flamin Groovies if only for the lines
"There's nothing I Can Prescribe
To Keep Your Rotting Bag of Bones Alive"
π€ππ€ππ€ππ€ππ€ππ€π
Your Bones Are White, The Flesh Is Stripped
You Felt Searing Pain, Hooks Did Rip
Consumed By Black Carrion Crows
Ripped Apart By Their Cruel Claws
π€π
Your Bones Are Split, Leaking Marrow
Your Pain Intense, Beyond Sorrow
Vultures Strip The Meat That Is Left
Hyenaβs Feast On Bloody Flesh
π€π
All That Is Left Are Broken Bones
A Pale Collection, All Alone
Decompose To Ivory Dust
Like Rotting Metal Turns To Rust
π€π
Your Life It Ends Youβre All Alone
Youβre Nothing But A Pile Of Bones
π€ππ€ππ€ππ€ππ€ππ€π
About the Creator
Mike Singleton π Mikeydred
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Comments (2)
There's so much truth to this. Because no matter what we are now, eventually in the end, everyone will just be a pile of bones. Loved this poem!
Thank you, Mike! This is a love at first sight. My favourite poem!