Compassion drowns in a blackened sea as a near corpse floats away.
Cries of tortured souls reach acute ears from the shore,
but the cadaver hears them no more.
It has no strength left to care,
no energy to bear the weight of their heads on it's shoulders.
Like boulders they crippled it,
adding to the weight of time.
Most angels have fled,
leaving the body to birds,
but the winged lies that remain constantly whisper,
"death is not near. You'll find your way." and drive off the scavengers until the next day.