Gravestones
Gravestones mark the spots
Where rotting bodies lie,
Eye sockets filled with maggots
They had a bountiful food supply.
Blood stains mark the spot
Where this person once stood,
He didn't get the chance to save himself
But, only if he could.
A knife stuck in the back
Of a man who cheated on his wife,
Beads from her necklace, roll across the floor
Because he enjoyed the nightlife.
A woman laid out in a coffin
She was barely recognized,
Leaves behind young children
Tears fall from their already swollen eyes.
Gravestones mark the spots
Where people left the earth to soon,
The sky cries crimson red blood
Underneath a full moon.
Copyright Cynthia Jones
Apr.19/2006
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