Clouds Above My Coffin
We’re so vain
There are clouds above my coffin;
clouds in the form of faces
made of dull skin
looking “more” dead than me.
They wash the fleshy suit
that I’m about to leave,
dropping tears of sorrow,
raining sadness and pain.
There is a Sun above these “clouds”,
but I’m the only one that noticed it.
Maybe I had to be dead
to put the daily distractions aside.
In this in-between stage
both sides are within my comprehension.
I feel why they cry,
and I understand there’s no reason for it.
They mourn about the future I could have
and the one they’ll have without me.
But, wait a minute…
What am I hearing after the “rain’s” passing?
Are they talking about their work?
And they’re planning vacation?
Bloody Hell, I was so vain!
I thought this funeral was about me!
That psychologist was right
about the open coffin, I guess.
It helps people reconcile themselves
to the idea that their loved one is gone.
