PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

We are but men,

in decaying forms.

Destined to be put,

six feet under.

While trampling feet,

stager over.

Rotting corpses,

that stood idly once as life went on.

No more the days of war,

no more the days of torn hearted men.

That stood rooted to the ground of dead men shooting.

We are but dead men walking,

upon earth for a day or more.

Till the day are timers stop,

are ticking time bombs set off.

And tears role down her rosy cheek.

No more the days of dead men walking,

no more the days of dead men shooting.

But more days of dead men sleeping,

six feet beneath her earth felt feet.

Leaving no trace of living there,

but one standing stone,

and twelve standing flowers.

We are but dead men walking,

upon earth as decaying forms.