HOUR 14 Mossy Death


There’s a cemetery few have seen;

it hides its dead, in the forest.

No visitors allowed.

Reads the sign.


Apparently when death arrived,

no one cared.

Piled on top of one another,

some do lie, for eternity.


Death cars, you heard me right.

Covered with rust and moss

some with trees, grown through

the body of steel.


Moss is natures carpet

to cover moist ground,

but when you slip in there

the car graveyard, that is.


You will find nature loves

and returns to the earth

that which belongs to her.







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