Ants On Her Dead Body.

In the slow sound of violin, I shall lament, for an eerie sight which I had witness and I so bent, Ants on her body, they crawled and roamed, A haunting scene, in darkness, intoned. She lay so still, upon the ground, As if in slumber, forever bound, But beneath her skin, a secret concealed, a mass of ants, a conquest revealed. They scurried cross her flesh, in blackened march, their tiny legs, a symphony of dread and arch, each step they took, a shudder sent, ants on her body, a mournful event. Her once radiant beauty, now marred and worn, by nature's army, her form so torn, they feasted upon her, with all their might, a somber dance, in the moon's pale light. They devoured her being, piece by piece, while I, a witness, felt sorrow's release, for in her demise, I saw life's cruel fate, ants on her body, a dirge resonates. Oh the creatures how relentless and small, their hunger, a testament to nature's call, they cared not for her spirit, now lost, as they consumed her, despair's final cost. And as the night wore on, their feast complete, a silence fell, a requiem so bittersweet, for though she now rested in eternal sleep, the ants on her body, their memory, I'll keep.