corpse

there are some words that will never be written. some things said to me that i'll never be given the opportunity to say. and the questions. oh, the questions multiply themselves, and it is not even beginning yet. some of there will be tough, driven by surprise and shock and anger (my anger, mind you). they will be insisting, curiosity smashing on an old concrete wall desperately trying to hold in one piece. no, no, the worst haven't happened already; it's yet to come. the worst is not the fall. is all the questioning about it. feels like pecking at an open wound that's still bleeding. feels like revolving the ashes. feels like exhuming a rotting corpse that no one cared to identify and pray for.