Rain is stopped like the moaning of dear ones
chanting stopped-not to repeat again
Peace on earth and his son is said...
Moving color is only this black
Drops falling on the tomb is not tears
But the final drops of a rain...
Whispers heard, are from the bored minds
Tired of wearing black suits and umbrellas
One is whispering-such an idiot he was
One is whispering-never returned my coins
One is whispering-moron will go to hell
Another one saying-let us go to bar and drink
I am looking inside the grave, terrified
It's so deep, how I will breathe from there?
It's so deep, how they can't think it will suffocate me?
I am attending my own funeral...
Raj Thampi
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/funeral-of-mine/
