My body, my face took the blows
while you just came home pretty.
To watch the carnations in a parade
of coffins in the dreaded graveyard.
Funerals are soft, but death rattles
of breaths, hoarse with effort to cry.
I wanted to go into the coffin, burn like
rubbish, burn the cruelty of time.
Silence Mother and Father’s last cries;
“Don’t let me go, don’t go”