No longer that person who is called The dead one cares about who is going to bury Him or her anytime... The silent body is no more and Into the other world will be sent by undertakers... The lovely person moves into the other world Simply because he is dead... They take him into those rituals of Washing one's whole body and Some other things... The silent body does not feel Anyone or anything around him or her... Man is the weakest creature ever Simply because when he or she dies They will call him or her The dead one... This world abandons all the dead people Simply because they leave it Willingly or unwillingly... Undertakers do their their best To hasten the burial's procedures ahead... Our world is weird and even absurd Towards us when we pass away anytime... Our short life reminds us that We are here only temporarily for a reason... We are wholly in the other world Under the mercy of those hired undertakers... We have no choice to be or to be not When we suddenly leave our world Into the other world... _________________________________________________ _____________________

Topic(s) of this poem: deaths

Poem Submitted: Wednesday, March 16, 2016

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