How you come to see me when I die,
dressed in rags or sables,
tears flowing from your eyes.
Makes no mind to me.
For I'm be dead and can not see.
If you should come to see me on
display,
as you look at me in that mummified
like way.
Make sure you'll be as comfortable,
as me, lying there.
And not over dressed.
Cause you can't impress,
the dead by what you wear.
Author notes
death
A contest entry
- HAPPY CONTEST. My first contest only 1 rule! must rhyme. by K1r5ty.
900 points, ended December 29, 2007, 21 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
-
not sure what you ment by that comment.....
-
Thank you for entering my first contest!
when i first started reading it i thought oh no morbid!! but then the funny conitation at the end saved you and i was very suprised!!!
Bravo
Adding your comment:
