Dull Death
In a big country afar,
Doors were always ajar,
With a few battle scars,
Life bloomed the mystic and bizarre…
There lived children who knew of the dead
Of Grandparents ridden to the bed
Chance accidents that left the roads red
Stories of the dead, some heard some read
It came in many forms and long spreads,
Death was a distant thing of everyone’s dread
There was a devil hiding…
when everyone was riding
the boring cycle of the daily and mundane
Life was present, if not exciting
Nobody had a care
If there was oxygen to spare
Even if life was not fair
Life was not unpleasant to bare
But the devil was hiding
For everyone’s despair
Long gone are the days
when death had varied ways
Long gone are the days
when death was a distant memory
The country no longer fights for orange or green
Because death does not discriminate
between froth and cream
Life is struggling now
Struggling for a breath of oxygen
Struggling for a dose of medicine
Struggling against the burning pier
Struggling to not be one with the air
Struggling to stay out of the pit it dug
Struggling to keep its feet on the rug
Death is mundane
Even death is bored
Heaps and heaps of masses
It has now scored
Some burn in embrace
Some are buried in grace
For its dead,
The country has no space
How did it come to face
such an ultimate disgrace?
