The Poet’s Son

The Poet’s Son by Siena Hitchcock 

Whose wise words will make you fall 

His compliments grasp your soul 

At your final resting place, you’ll be buried with his last goodbye 

His wise wise words imprinted into your head

When your flesh around it decays into nothing but earth and lead  

And only your thick skull is left, deep in the ground

His father’s heart begins to pound 

The impact of his absence leaves a dent 

A scar that never fully healed (and it won’t ever repent)

You'll be stolen from your grave

Stitched up and shocked to life 

He will try to stitch up that wound

That was opened by that dull-looking knife 

He will try to invert that dent, but that dent cannot be undone

As it is the work of the poet’s son