A twisted poem about a dream of what will come for me after my tragic demise. |
- This Earth, Last Night’s Bed- by Keaton Foster I’m dead This earth Last night’s bed I slept well Peaceful and true Never again Will I awaken Mortal no more My soul Has gone home My skin and bones Set to decompose My words Those that remain Lies upon the page Fools will find them Savages will read them Few will obey them They are the sum The point of the blade The edge of the knife The antithesis of why I was ever here Existence A torturous endowment Given through grace Taken away through fate Fate cannot allow itself To ever be denied I took my own life It was both my time And my right Thou shalt not kill Hypocrisy in spades Never a man of faith I feared God more When I was alive Now I fear nothing at all I’m here Within silence I’m here Within oblivion The ether extends beyond The shambles of existence The wilderness of who we are Is pale in comparison To the expansive vacancy That I now find myself in This earth Last night’s bed I slept good Peaceful and true Never again Will I awaken I am indeed dead The price for Having ever lived I know those who Came upon my corpse Dangling From the shortest rope Were not shocked They cut me down Said a kind prayer Prepared my body With gentle regard They called in a priest His kind lies echoed I heard each one Long after They were said When they were done Everyone said Amen Almost as if they Themselves were Somehow at ease This earth Last night’s bed I’m sure you’re asking Pondering Maybe avidly yawning How could such Poignant words Have been penned Written before death Suggestible at best How could this man This poet with no hope Have known what was next Before he was even there How could have he had Such a supercilious idea And then shared it Before he defied God’s tenant And hung himself until dead How could this all be as it is Simple It’s not… This Earth, Last Night’s Bed Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2014. |