Some are confused about what happens when you pass
Some are tossed away and left in the trash
Others buried deep below, underneath the clean, mowed grass
Others gather promptly like they are going to a class
Bodies dressed in the finest silk and brass
Others drop a tear while they’re refilling up their glass
Some will bring you food after leaving from their flats
And whisper to the living that this pain too shall pass
Bodies decompose, they stink and fill with gas
You’ll never even know, you’re too busy chasing ass
It’s really how it goes, didn’t mean to break your glass
As accidents will show, death will always come trespass
© Delia Ross. 2019
