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Comment and Crit welcomed:

I regret to inform,
Tis the time to mourn.
There’s nothing to say,
There’s no other way.

You’re cordially invited,
To the funeral of life.
The end of the world,
So rife with strife.

The dead are the guests
Who attend this affair.
They all look on
With a vacant stare.

As the casket of life
Is slowly buried,
The eyes of the dead
Begin to bleed.

The blood is onyx
In the moon’s eerie glow.
It pools up on the ground
In a steady flow.

That blood is the last bit
Of emotion the dead can stir,
For the blood is not theirs,
But that stuff of myth, ichor.

As the dirt piles on,
Life…it’s gone.
And everything we see,
Isn’t even a memory…