Little Poetry or some shit.

This came to me on the drive over to work. Had to get it out of my head before it consumed me. Might be finshed, might not...but most likely.

The Funeral

Her heart smolders
Like the tip of her cigarette
In anger about never knowing
The man who brought her
Into this world.

Now outside with all
These strangers
Celebrating his life
Her curiosity comes
A little too late.

Thirty years cast out
For reasons forgotten
The man in the box
Never forgot the
Sunshine in his grey life.

His body finally followed
His heart which died
Those thirty years ago
When all his days
Turned from bright sunshine
To dreary grey.