My body is a coffin,

To my decaying soul,

And there are vultures nibbling,

on my gory flesh,

chewing, biting, dripping -

licking off their claws!

And the fetid smell off my raw body,

Entices them in,

And they feast,

mouth in flesh,

flesh in mouth,

Sanctifying my corpse,

which was otherwise trashed,

in a crook of an ostracized bin!

I was delinquent to a life,

imprisoned by fate,

and there was never nudity,

in my thoughts on why -

someone like me divinity would create?

My heart was now at funeral,

Mourning the loss of home,

But I was dead even before I breath,

and I implore those who query,

why should I sorrow

what I don't even own?

I was vivacious from outside,

broken from within,

and suicide was only a death!

To a God who never cared,

How could it be a sin?