On the Slab
On the Slab
By Tony DeLorger © 2011
On the slab with vacant air,
paled skin and empty stare.
Held by death no longer bare,
the platitudes of life.
My wrinkled skin my wasted grin,
now loosely draped on bones of sin.
My handsome face what once had been,
my calling card in life.
How shallow now it seems to be,
my rotting flesh far gone to see.
The reaper near his face of glee,
revelling in my plight.
For all I’ve done and all I’ve meant,
now here I lie with acrid stench,
my shell so bleached my form so bent,
I’m hardly worth recall.
The moment we are born it starts,
our slow demise our stony hearts,
relinquish life as time imparts,
the end approaching fast.
So better we appreciate,
the life we’ve got before too late,
and love your heart the good innate,
and give your life a meaning.
For when it’s gone the memories fade,
the love you gave the friends you made,
are all that’s left in life’s tirade,
acknowledge it while you’re here.
Death is inevitable.
Love is a choice.
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