Diana_Carolina

In peace, we shall rest

There’s bloodline and strangers dressed in pitch blackness
There’s fatness in their cheeks, puffed with sadness
As I look for intervals of sanity in this whirlpool of madness
That show even in the blankness’s faces of the melancholic pianists.
Much it is of a coincidence, of a happening
To such gloomy faces, the sky seems to be blackening
The silence amongst the crowd is almost maddening
It swirls a humming vals in my mind, almost fathoming.
May this be the sacred ritual, of a sad, despairing entombment?
It is to check the lack of amusement, concurs with the smell pollutant
What a ghastly, witty formality, a body in its confinement
Forever to hold silence, gutted from all atonement.
If it were to be me, lying still with swollen eyes
An open buffet for the Lord of the flies
Would be nothing but wise, to let out my final cries
Tis’ a prize my demise, contrary to their bed and sheets of lies.
Am I the lucky love child being buried six feet underground?
Such destiny shall be, to not mask my giggles with thunderclouds
As the roses you toss to my coffin, instead flutter around
Stuffing your mouths with cold coffee with your lips, burned and round.
I’m merely but a body, who lies still with cut wings
Winking at you flock of bodies, made of flesh and strings
Being as fate would write it, it is for you the violins
To honor on your fingers the blood diamonds, that shine on my chin.
Much apologies to the depression, goodbyes to my masked guests
My heart heavies underneath my warmed up, dusty dressed breast
Worry not for what’s not being confessed, by Death everyone’s chased, possessed
Adieu farewell, roses and thorns, I leave and pray that in peace, you too shall all rest.