funeral to come

You wander in the park
but there is no spark
of love to be said
in my head
i feel so badly injured
from all the mean thoughts you conjured
my love burns
for all the times i yearned
for you
we should have been two
to just sit on the bench
but while the wrench
of love never turns
my love still burns
and even as i yell
you will not fall under my spell
as i hoped to be cupid
i felt rather stupid
pretending i had a bow and arrow
there will always be this sorrow
beneath my heart
that i thought could never break apart
or sever
into pieces all those around would see my grievences
and hear the sound
of the lack of beat
from the heart and the stomping feet
non which are rampart
halt at my sobbing
body and soul pouring
no one will be prodding
at my crushed frame
no crane
too lift
for i am to stiff
to be bothered on this day
no one will sway
me any more
my heart forever sore
will be broken
till stroken
by the hand of the unseen
grant of Death's scene