When I was Five
I watched My Father put in the ground.
The hole
That buried Him
Buried me too
Slowly
Quietly held in place.
Rain soaked the Pines
That occupied His space.

I never forget the grave I dig
We are the same,
Both rotting shit empty corpse.
I began To bleed and bleed
The whole so big.

I had to remember
The way you died. And The way
You lived.
The fascination of what death really is.
I could never forget it.
I could never forgive.
© Ellybwatts