A Hymn

I see nothing, but headless necks,
That dangle atop mushy bodies that wet,
The ground beneath their weather met,
The rain of them wet a leather hat.

Water cascades the rim,
Her lightening grenades his limbs,
Crackling notates the hymn,
Of a requiem written for him.

“A day of peace for me,
1 day at least of three,
For my steps doth fail,
Pry no door open to hell,
To think it’d be alone,
Was an edict carved in stone,
Before my days of breath it was,
Mixed within me blood,
A day of mourning doth come,
To mourn what life hath done,
A silent descent to grave,
A silent end to age”.

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