tragic sleep

*In halls where silence holds its breath, Where shadows twist in dance with death, Cold steel whispers secrets few have known, Among the slabs of flesh and bone. Here, the reaper’s touch is felt, In every scar, in every welt, A symphony of sorrow hums, As lifeless lips forget their tongues.* *Marble eyes that once could see, Now stare in blank eternity, Their stories trapped in final freeze, Echo through the morgue’s cold breeze. Stiffened fingers curl no more, Their last embrace a distant lore, Only the cold and empty night, Cradles them in death’s own rite.* *The scalpel sings its cruel song, To those who never did belong, In life they wandered, lost and late, But found a friend in death’s cold gate. For here, where breath and heartbeat cease, The morgue becomes their final peace, And in its dark, morose domain, All mortals share a single strain.* *So come, dear friend, and take your place, In this grand, morbid resting space, For in the morgue, where shadows creep, We find our truest, darkest sleep.*