Six feet under hell itself
Rituals from when time was young,
Filling our daughters' lungs with sand,
To leave her innocent words unsung,
To keep from a life of reprimand.
Envious of your safe haven,
You're six feet under hell itself,
Where we live like hollow knight ravens,
Living a deadly stretched farewell.
We mourn our honorary loss
But celebrate your great escape,
From hammered fate up on a cross,
From being pressed on ticker tape.
Where buffaloes wear suits and ties
And humans prowl on sets of two,
Where you live and breathe through compromise
And mean nothing more than honeydew.
Send words of love up through the ground
To get us through this tortured realm,
Of broken souls and vicious hounds,
Of empty eyes that overwhelm.
I won't bear any daughters,
To keep them from these Satan's pawns.
I'll navigate these dark waters,
With battered sails of ripped nylon.
Syeda Erum Noor is dangerously oblivious and has no sense of time. Send help at firstname.lastname@example.org