Rotting in the ground, sitting there for an enterity. No movement no sound. Rats chew on the bones. No casket. This body a vessel that used to hold a life, now rotting. No way to tell its story, no way to tell how they died. No way to get revenge on their killer. Forever stuck, until unearthed by someone or something. But still no way to find out what happened. Another puzzle unsolved. But as they say the living can not tell the deads tales. As dead men tell no tales themselves.
-
Author:
McKinsey (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 12th, 2017 19:41
- Category: Spiritual
- Views: 130
Offline)
Comments1
I love this. Just love this. Amazing write.
Thank you!
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.