None to call my own
And my carcass withers in the soil.
For I starved to a flat line.
No humans to bid me, fare thee well!
No rue to embrace my rags.
No memories left behind.
None is left lighter of a burden!
None knows of my passing.
Ha! The world rejoices at my sleep!
Yet, a more romantic funeral
The mortal has never known than this.
Clad of greenery instead of a shroud
Nature sends a Thrush to Commemorate the dawn of my fleshly Disintegrate.
No! Even better than a practised C- Major as a final whistle of my race.
The skies eke out a second to capture
The final view of my inhumane flesh.
The sun limns my shadow as it sets.
While the ants await their feast like Everyone else. The fireflies create an Apparel, men of Jewels are poor to Afford.
A happier end, men will have never Known!
For men will never be blessed enough
Like a carcass, starved of human Touch.
Pic Courtesy : Google
To my fellow WordPress Bloggers, please take note that the poem is best read on Unveiled Rhythms than the wordpress app as the capitalization goes haywire due to the restrictions of the current theme.