I wrote this poem about 20 years ago. I gave a set of writings to my friend to save on 3.5 floppies, which he recently discovered. Since he thought enough of it to mail back to me I thought I'd share it with you.
You lay there in your coffin,
Tasting your own blood,
Cold waters rise around you,
dirt turns into mud.
You scream aloud but no one hears,
6 ft. under, filled with tears.
All alone in the night,
your dreams encased in horrid fright.
Why confined, and why alone,
Why buried beneath rock and stone?
Because you’re lonely, because you fear,
the wasting of your precious years.
You yearn for freedom and repost,
from boredom’s clutches and regret’s pale ghost