Buttons from Bones

They want to make buttons
out of my bones.

They say old age
claimed me,
buttoning me up,
nice and tidy.

They blind themselves
to the cut marks
and fractures.

Nature did not
do this to me.
He did.

But he is their king,
their hero who did
no wrong.
They'll never believe it.

"Oh poor old man!
We must give him
a proper burial!"

Yes, that's right.
Toss me back
into the dirt.

Don't even bother
looking into
my eye sockets.

Slap a stone on top, too.
Just the right touch'
to pretend you care.

Rest In Peace.
Yeah right.

One day,
some brave soul
will dare to unbutton
my bones.

He will speak the truth
and none will believe him.

But at least
it will be said,
and on that day,
I will finally
R.I.P.

Wow, this is interesting and very morbid (at least to me), but I like morbid poetry.
Good job, I liked the hint of sarcasm in the teller's voice.
Favorite Part:

They want to make buttons

out of my bones.

The beginning was interesting and caught my eye at once. NIce work niteowl!

i think this is a very interesting poem.
To be honest, i didn't really like the more coloquial (please excuse crappy spelling) terms, like 'yeah, right.'
I think it's because it seemed out of place. However, that may be the intention.
'don't even bother
looking into
my eye sockets'
this line confused me. I didn't know whether you were speaking metephorically or not. did you mean sort of 'looking into my eyes' but wrote eye sockets because he is a skeleton?
i adore the unbuttoning bones idea. It's wonderful - you should be really pleased with yourself!
i thought that this poem had a lot of highlights, but maybe rethink the coloquial stuff that i mentioned earlier.
that's all i really have to say. really well done.

best of luck with later stuff.
charlie.