Nobody's Child

Herald

for here comes the morning star

on a dab midsummer

the noose
on the great oak swings.

there goes a wasted child

long lost and forgotten

swinging by the noose

in liberty.

for freedom he sought

but none did he got.

in a glass prison

oppressed and shunned.

if i die, would you weep

would you bade on my casket.

a wreath of scarlet roses

handpicked by Death.

if i die, would you cry

would you read my epitaph.

a silky spun tale of

tragedy and sorrow.

for its all black and 

hobos and silly laughs

filled the air, with such

satire lust.

as you toss

and you turn

until you burn

in a lovelock deadlock.

if i die, would you weep

would you bade on my casket

a wreath of scarlet roses

handpicked by Death.

if i die, would you cry

would you read my epitaph.

a silky spun tale of
tragedy and sorrow.

will i be, like the child

swinging babe in serenity.

his peaceful face hides

all suppressed agony.

or maybe i, am the child

only very much alive

longing for Death

to loosen the noose.