The grave is like a raven, s wings,
in its belly is nothing but empty,
and a name thats been repeated
again, and again, untill we all stop
listening, this is where the so called
party begines.
your vanity gone,
your flesh and bone,6 foot under.
your swords and knives, rusted
by your very own blood.
DAVID GERARDINO
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/nothing-but-empty/
