14 Funerals

The first one to go,
was uncle joe,
destitute and alone,
he died with cancer in the bone

The second to depart,
was cousin Mark,
he didn‘t deserve it,
but he was never smart.

The third to walk the plank,
was my father hank,
on the bottom of a bottle,
fleeing demands from the bank.

The fourth to leave,
was my mother Mayheave,
going on her own,
to lessen her grief.

The fifth one that left,
was my brother Clef.
He wanted to live,
but his fate was death.

The sixth one hurt most,
it was my lover rose.
The driver was drunk,
they smashed into a post.

The seventh that went out,
was my cousin scout.
I wasn‘t hurt no more,
when he drowned off the shore.

The eight was too soon,
alone in his room,
my son Jeff,
was denied his last breath

The ninth died alone,
my grampa Malone.
I wish I could care,
but my heart is a stone.

The tenth left to late,
it was my brother Nate.
shot in the chest,
by the people he did hate.

Eleven, twelve, thirteen,
Barry, John, and Eileen.
The drugs were fake,
they would never awake.

And now theres only me,
alone in the dark.
An empty chest,
a hole in my heart.

Had god left me,
or was he never there,
it doesn‘t matter,
no more prayers I can spare.

For what am I,
but a man shape hole,
A gaping wound,
where there once was a soul.

The world lay barren,
no more blue and green.
I cannot wait,
to be number fourteen.