I never took a fancy to cluttering
Taking up space and rotting away
Laid within this insatiable womb
Called Mother earth.
An archive of skeletons
Of the high and low
Catacombs of feats and failed dreams
Starched in its recesses like sardines
So when the bell clangs my end
When these curtains of life fall
And my tired eyelids meet
In a perpetual embrace
Roll up my remains like cigar
And light it up
Like the Phoenix, I shall rise again
From the ashes of death to a newborn
For one can never truly live forever
Without first dying and cheating death.
Grabbing the damn thing by the throat
Until our friend, the bacteria acts.
Dutifully and religiously
Transforming this once youthful body
Into a hub of putrefying mess.
But in the end, Death is a journey
You take alone.
@harrywill