I Invite none to your Funeral,
How can I?
If you're the One who killed me
inside?
I stood there pale,
I took all the poetry I wrote about you
performed a ritual and burn it in
the bogi like fire, so feral.

I sat across the stairs
with pain and burn
I collected all those ashes
of my poetry notes of you
kept in jar to go ganga for you.

I felt a burn, I see my skin
with brusie, a part of me died
when my poetry stop synchronizing
with you.

you're not someone I knew
you've changed and so I'm.

This funeral just kills
a part of me.
I hope the Night, Smoke or Fire
will never remind me you.

© Isai