deepundergroundpoetry.com
After My Death
When my soul drifts away
to the hands of the holder,
and I am nothing
but a mere memory, lingering lightly.
The things I missed in life
will be too far to see,
and will no longer hold any worth
after my death.
My corpse will become a feast
for maggots to feed on,
and for regretful necrosol to swallow,
within a sorrowful grave steeped in remorse.
to the hands of the holder,
and I am nothing
but a mere memory, lingering lightly.
The things I missed in life
will be too far to see,
and will no longer hold any worth
after my death.
My corpse will become a feast
for maggots to feed on,
and for regretful necrosol to swallow,
within a sorrowful grave steeped in remorse.
Published 18th Feb 2025
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