People pass my open grave,
I listen to them talking,
I'm alive but too far gone to save,
So they all just keep on walking.
They look with pity at my face,
I stare with glass-like eyes,
Soon I know I'll leave this place,
My body left to feed the flies.
Down to hell my soul will go,
I hope I don't get scared,
But there are many people there I know,
So I think I am prepared.
© Copyright 2016 Phoebe Kishbaugh. All rights reserved.
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