Hour Ten

The Funeral

Bodies shrouded in black
rock forward and back
under siege by the dark
cloud of mourning
seeking light in this tunnel
but finding none.

Shades of sadness
and supplication
run through the air
an ebony chem trail
infecting all present.

I am swallowed by envy
while you lie there
oblivious to the wails
echoing against walls
and wearing your favorite
yellow dress.

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