Stages of Pretend

The black horses standing still
their heads tilt, their plums dark
black reigns, dark coats.
Top hats off, they know the drill,
the mourners bow and carry the cask
Standing, crying, the ones who loved,
the girl veiled with a dead mask.
The bells ring and disturb the air
a cold breeze moves their hair
their eyes, sorrow filled
handkerchief ready to be tilt,
moved to their faces, drying their tears
as they ever held her dear
all their faces in stages of pretend
secretive smiles, heads bend
Words spoken in monotonous tones
as pre-written as mindless clones
a tear solemnly falling down their faces
while they can’t wait to move on
When the coffin is carried out
in silent march they will follow
like vultures in the African sky
and when the coffin is lowered into the ground
covered by flowers and they mourn the one who died
they feel all the relief, carry on, carry on,
There is a party to be held
and they will have tea and cake
reminisce the diseased
to put their own heart at ease
She will smile, in her velvet covered tomb
knowing that her life has just begun
no one will care if they find an empty grave
growing black feathers like a raven
morphing into the cemetery’s guard
soaring overhead, eyes looking down
free from gravity, from the thorn crown
Spreading her wings to fly to the sky above
to free herself from smothering love
Black feathers falling on the stones
followed by clean bones
The audience of the play will never see the end
They leave and go on with their pretend
Until the next person in line dies
and everything repeats like pre-rehearsed lies