A Coffin Protest Poem by Nero CaroZiv

A Coffin, is a small suffocating, blemished, besmeared domain,
How it is designated for us as an eternally contain
Are we not all citizens of Paradise? To be in such a dire ban
Who is to decide our fate to lie in its diminished dusty lane.

A Grave, headed with ware out letters such a restricted breadth
From it we shall never feel the wind or see the Sun
And the whole world and the vast blue Seas it holds and populates
Precious lands with forests gloom and balmy spring fields we never look upon

Us, who on our coffins lay repose,
Forgotten from the world and all our friends
Contained in a circumference of a dungeon without relief
With no channel to protest our case and sound our grief


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