The Last Tear


In the sky linger stale dark clouds,
Which hang about like evil death shrouds,
The threatening bark of hell's black dogs,
Echoing through the mildewed bogs.
Tombstones composed of cold concrete,
Restraining the corpses hanging with meat.
Dark clouds shroud the air too full of death to breathe.
Sickle sounds searing the night is the bequeath.
Tombstones stand cold and lifeless in guard of the same,
Concrete soldiers with mold, a date, and name.
Gray moss entwined like serpents, saps the life of the tree.
Feeling red grim eyes staring, but not to see.
Touching dampness, dew on dead leaves like tears of those gone before.
Rotting invades sorrow as dust prevails for what is no more...




(Please take notice of the iambic pentameter!)