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Solace Of The Dirt

They strap me down to keep me from hurting myself

In the mourning, there will be none of me left

They drain my sacrificial blood from my veins

They think that it will eradicate all of my pain

They try to rectify the mistakes on me

They think it better if I am seen as pretty

They comb my hair and finish off the nails

The final one goes in to balance the scales

The great equalizer is the solace of the dirt

All are the same underneath Mother Earth

Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content

Comments

This poem paints a vivid and tragic picture of a person facing their own mortality. The imagery of the "straps" and "sacrificial blood" is haunting and evocative of a feeling of helplessness. The poem does an excellent job of describing the sense of resignation and acceptance of the end. The description of the attempt to make the person "pretty" for their final moments is especially powerful. One line edit that could be considered is to replace the phrase "the final one" in line six with something more specific, such as "the final nail". This would add greater clarity to the image being conveyed. Overall, this is a well-crafted poem that speaks to the universality of death and its power to level the playing field.

And true. We are all the same once we are dead and buried. They can try to make us look different in death than we were in life but when it comes to our final rest, we are one in the same. Truly food for thought. Well done.

~RoseBlack~

Thanks RoseBlack

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