A Poem. "The Dead"

The Dead

A confused mind, no warning heed,
A trigger pulled without due need,
A courageous bullet of lead doth speed,
A drop of blood, from veins freed.

The loud bang, an angry sound,
The splat of blood as it hits the ground,
The profound lack of a heart beat pound,
The lonely silence of a burial mound.

Although the dead in their coffins sleep,
Life around, continues to creep,
And above, the birds do sweep,
Their chicks, new life, begin to peep.

Do not weep, for the dead,
Sing their praises, with joy instead.