The mourners cram the space, As heightened wailing takes place. A slick, ivory coffin in their midst, As the pallbearers gently place it Into the freshly dug-out ground. Multifarious wreaths and bouquets Inundate the vast periphery, Whilst a final prayer gets recited-- For the corpse, mayhap? More like, for the living, I think. The sickening, saccharine aroma Of decay and formaldehyde Combine with the acerbic flavors Of insistent guilt and hefty shame. Another witch, forced to rest; Another girl, vanguished by death-- Or was it by blame? For, I can still hear the weeping crowd-- Demanding to touch the ghastly casket; I can even sense the jostling, As they palpably race To fulfill the meticulous task Of burying the body, at long last-- Even whilst I'm still breathing, Even when I'm still alive. "Breathing Corpse In Living Grave" For SHREYA RAJAK. Thank you for the prompt, sweets ♥️ #Breathing_Corpse_In_Living_Grave #diwa #yqbaba
