When, last, Bri died …….he was ignored.
Death just yawned......AND looked bored.
Bri called: "Helllllloo! Yoohoo. I DIED."
But Death just smiled a bit...and sighed,
.............and THEN Death said:
"Bri, your bones are YOUR problem now.
No earth will take you, though hard I plow.
IF I manage to bury you and I turn around,
your bones will be rejected by the ground.
No worms want any part of your sorry bones.
They all say 'we'd rather suck gritty stones'.
Sooooo.......
Think it out before, once again, you decide to die.
STOP your sniveling! I CAN'T STAND to see you cry.'
(February 10.2016)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem