The Family Wasn't Connected Poem by Eillio Imbasciati

Dodged a bullet,
Found out that the family wasn't connected
They were just a pack of stranger, really,
Utilitarian in nature, function over form, presentation over feelings
It is only during funerals in which they bond,
Chatting over the hushed sounds of ghost in the room,
Holding the demons at bay
When life's plot get thicker than the CliffsNotes version,
They go back to their separate lives,
Not to be see or heard of again until the next casket comes calling