Bones

This is my Twenty Fourth dark poem in the series inspired by Dharrsheena.

Eventually, all that is left is the bones.

The music I have chosen is "Slow Death" by The Flamin Groovies if only for the lines

"There's nothing I Can Prescribe

To Keep Your Rotting Bag of Bones Alive"

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Your Bones Are White, The Flesh Is Stripped

You Felt Searing Pain, Hooks Did Rip

Consumed By Black Carrion Crows

Ripped Apart By Their Cruel Claws

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Your Bones Are Split, Leaking Marrow

Your Pain Intense, Beyond Sorrow

Vultures Strip The Meat That Is Left

Hyena’s Feast On Bloody Flesh

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All That Is Left Are Broken Bones

A Pale Collection, All Alone

Decompose To Ivory Dust

Like Rotting Metal Turns To Rust

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Your Life It Ends You’re All Alone

You’re Nothing But A Pile Of Bones

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