“Corpsy Thoughts” – Poetry 

Poetry excerpt from Demonic Lulladies.

© Sitarra “LullaDIEs” Sefton

Silently I lay below,
I do not move, I do not speak.
My mood is always mellow,
My body begins to reek.

I was part of science; forensics,
Then they put me in my hole,
My smell must have been rancid,
By the funeral, I’d grown mold.

My body lays unmoving,
But my soul still lingers here.
The familiar form is soothing,
The thought of leaving I cannot bare.

My skin has dried to leather,
It falls away from my bones,
But I feel no displeasure,
Here under my tombstone.

No one comes to visit me,
Friends and family have long forgotten.
But the maggots keep me company,
And they make me laugh quite often.

The worms are eco terrorists,
Feeding on my molted flesh,
Cockroachs make great therapists,
My thoughts they ask me to express.

My body rots and decays around me,
A stench fills the stale coffin air.
But I will stay for all eternity,
Down here I have not a care.

In life, I feared the day I would die,
In death I fear my souls rebirth.
Reincarnation was offered; I denied.
Mortal problems don’t exist in a hearse.

I think of my life, of who I once was,
I ponder the living souls I left behind.
I wonder if my children are having Christmas.
The ground’s cold and frozen; the time it reminds.

My wife; she still lives in the world,
I know, her plot next door is vacant.
I hope in her age she wasn’t made crippled.
Oh, how I miss her sweet, flowery fragrance.

This old corpses lips magically curl,
Thinking of the one I love makes me smile still.
I hope she is happy and doesn’t yearn,
To die, but I’m eager for her hole being filled.

I reflect on my friendships,
And the company I chose to keep,
Some were normal, some were eccentric,
OH, how I miss them all; bone deep!

My enemies I wish to meet one last time,
Just to say “I’m sorry“,
In my death, I am no longer blind,
And I can see everyone’s story.

My story was horrendous,
But it was also filled with love.
I couldn’t be cured by a therapist,
But instead from an angelic touch.

My angel was infected though,
By my genetic mental curse.
What a cheap gift for me to bestow.
But hear underneath the Earth,

There is no room for regret.
It is as it is, and it’s her’s now,
I allow myself to reflect.
The souls peace in death; profound.

There is a sound six feet above,
My granddaughter is near, I know.
My soul starts to swell with love,
But my spirit I will never show.

This is my home now, my sweet angel,
A place you shouldn’t be.
Please, do not mourn me my angel,
You will be here too eventually.


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