Buried Poem by Dante Furious

It seemed very easy
Years of listening to your nagging
Your mouth fuelled with hot tempered lava
Spitting heated insults
Complaining
How you complained
Reducing me to a stump of jabbering flesh
Flesh incensed at my lost years and lip bitten words
Of cold love and the cold stillness of affection
Thankfully I can still strike out
And now I realise all those years of your food gorging
Have taken its toll not on you
But me
Your grave is like you
Cold, dark and very big