#funeralinvitations

Your head is a scene shop I hear a banging Coming from it’s depths

You look like a tin man Who swallowed a tin can I hear it when you walk

Your shame is akin to The smell of a snowstorm As April goes on

It’s cruel, but not meaningful The way these events unfold You’re the master and slave

And slowly but surly A shirtless man saws at Your grave planks; he smiles

“I’m making them perfect, And getting a head start, It doesn’t need to be done for a year”

And still you sit waiting Proudly so static As I sharpen my teeth

The nail file’s exhausted And you have grown squeamish But the man saws away.

And that is your life, Day by day.