A Song of Decay and Carnations

Wind gusts past, whispering the untold tales of the unforgotten,

Where those who experienced the overwhelming darkness of the unknown,

Are now forever cast to a place that is only put to words, but is never experienced,

A looming fear of a destination that reaches beyond what is known.

A hand reaches out to grasp onto something, anything,

It is yearning to carry those close enough to the places of uncertainty,

The grasp tightens and tightens,

Until there is nothing but a memory of what once was.

A cold breath entangles itself around the room,

It is a quiet breath, smelling of decay and carnation,

You know what this is,

Something you've seen in hospital rooms just like this,

A bed that brings the beauty of life into reality,

but one that also brings the sweet song of death.