In the end, bad things happen You took chances to be alone In your end, worse things happened As they carried you from your home Name, please? No nametag We've cought another stray Your family? Good riddance You've left with nothing to say Next destination; the pound A place with scalpels galore Another corpse was found I'm knocking on death's door. |
Author's Comments
[Morgue: (noun) 1.- A place where the bodies of unknown dead persons are kept to be examined or tested on before burial.]
Not exactly one of my best works... but acceptable enough to submit to deviantART. |
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What a hard cold metal table
If you could, You'd scream & say
Are they my organs in that tray
Upon your toe you wear a tag
Your clothes removed & dumped like rags
You would be shocked & think how rude
I'm being chopped up while in the nude
Your body they just cut & poke
While this goes on they laugh & joke
In death you have no dignity
To them your now just meat you see
That buzzing sounds the bone saw
But you cant feel pain anymore
Around your skull they've cut a grove
& now your brain they must remove
If its suspicious when you die
Your arse belongs to C.S.I.
poetrys great fun isn't it
--
This is not a happy day they took my padded room away
I really loved to bounce & zoom while flying round that padded room
Nice poem anyway.
--
I know my art isn't good, and I'm here to try to improve it by practicing.
If you can't accept that, then I hope you fall into a woodchipper.
Then again, I hope you do either way.
--
This is not a happy day they took my padded room away
I really loved to bounce & zoom while flying round that padded room
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