Seeing a dead body for the first time changes you. More than any heartbreak or a splinter does, its much more distress. I don't even know the man in the box as well as everyone else does, but in this moment no one knows him. He's face is like a doll and they melted away his flaws, trying to preserve his body. His skin that once was wrinkled and usually covered I'm dirt from working in the garden, was now smoothed out with something like a paint roller trying to get rid of his age. Its almost like they wanted the most perfect him to go to rest, but not actually him. I wanted to see his ripped up flannel on with his gold cross hanging around him like it always was, and I wanted his hair a windwhirl mess. That wasn't so though. His body was something out a wax museum that tourists come to, relatives come from far away when just a week ago they hadn't called in years.
Everyone's terrified of death, but they make it look so pretty.
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teenage fools
PoetryI write poetry about life, death, love, hurt, depression, and basically everything.
