The Irony in Death

grey skulls piled on ground
Photo by Renato Danyi on Pexels.com

Paper soles and cardboard laces

Charcoal words in darkened places

Ceilings of glass

With hale storms looming

Dormant volcanoes

And we, unassuming

Mountain Laurel flowers

As pretty as can be

Stems of death

Laced in beauty

A bottomless pit

Or so he believed

When the bottom fell out

His grave misdeed

Not conjured, but real

In this final breath

No longer to feel

The irony in death

 

 

Author: What Words May Come

Hopeless romantic; joker; father and grandfather; husband; sportsman; part-time writer;

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