The Perfect Sacrifice

 A sacrifice volunteered.
Death? If you agree with it.
They left me to bleed
Forcefully with gentle hands
I now write on the
walls of my coffin, still alive
Counting the days til I
am released, the day of freedom.
The day I see Them again.

Will they laugh?
Or will they continue what
they never finished?
Long days pass without any
attention to the solid coffin
My home remains in this solid
wooden box.

I hear nothing but silence and
sometimes maybe the small steps of
the ants that feast upon my skin
Silence is Peaceful
Especially when you are dying.