you can't tell me that you don't think about what happens
after the casket lid closes.
sure, there's the biological stuff, your muscles,
your skin, your everything just..melts away,
leaving you a set of ivory bones
no different than the ones that lie in
the grave beside you.
in some weird way,
you are nothing and everything.
you had a life, you lived it,
you were triumphant and you failed
maybe you reveled in pulpy leaflets
or reached for the bottles one time too
sure, it all makes up you.
morals, people argue are what really
makes you up.
those are the people i don't think have their
heads screwed on right; and that's nice for them
because its easier to deflect what's right in front
if you have morals, why don't you show them
if you should love thy neighbor why don't
you even know the first names of the
couple that have lived across the street
from you for the past ten years?
why is the world just a jumble
of questions with little slips
of answers that aren't fished out
from the rubble until you're staring
into that abyss?
no one told you about the
view from halfway down.
no one told you what was on the
other side and you are afraid,
because you've accepted death
but never thought about what
could be beyond it.
and maybe i was right the
first time, telling you that
all you'll end up is a body
in a nice-cushioned box
in the ground.
but who said you had to listen to me?
go off and do something, something
so that you don't end up like the person
we're mourning today.