Numb not knowing like a baby in a womb,
flowers in a grave yard placed on a tomb.
A bright sunrise shines on a face covered,
resting on its back with a view deep down.
Closed eyelids with a vision of nothing,
viewing small veins with no blood flowing.

Eyes in place but resting forever,
a dressed expression on a face cold.
Fingers on a hand with no feelings,
skin cold to touch under rotten bones.
A head on a soft pillow of satin,
the world above rumbles to no ear.

The seasons change hot and cold,
a world in trouble full of pain.
Under aching feet no heart beats,
a diaphram motionless with no air.
As the years past nothing progresses,
time becomes a stopped clock.

Pain becomes past.

G