Damp Delay Poem by Justin Short

Disease dealers
Famine forgers
Fueling fires like fortunes of flint
(Here lies my hero)
Halfway haphazard while wholly hypnotized
Drearily departing downward, deepening only daily
Death doth call with a dark, damp delay
-knock-

Dazed and despaired
Fumbling to feel
Forgetting the fear and the fare of the deal
Hazed and harmed
Becoming the blood
The best of battalions now bask in the mud
Death doth deliver with deceitful decay
-knock-

Failure, failure on the wall
Where's the flesh behind my jaw?
-knock-

He only knocks to be polite
It matters not what time of night
A wall of waste written with names
Descended too soon into their graves
-knock-