Coroner's Day

A torn shirt smeared in red On the table calmly sleeps the dead Strewn around are organs and the heart Incredible to imagine them as the departed’s part! Useless as they are now experimental blocks Drained of life heedless to the clocks No love no emotion in the cold dim room Is living natural or more so is doom? Reeking of the dead eerie scissors sweep One by one they cut strong and deep Dismembering the lover cutting through the brave But no show of courage when the abode is grave! Drying bloods of passion drip from the dead The once living corpse on the table goes fade With no words or voice feelings blown away He could at last make the coroner’s day!