Why do the dead never rest?

Why do they cease to cause

no disturbance?

Perhaps they are lonely and

seek friends,

Maybe they tire of breathing

the breath of death,

Any breath has potential to

become tiresome,

Imagine the forever cold, a

neverending rest,

While insects eat them away

Within their box of a bed,

Beneath dirt to never again

Be blessed,

Instead, cursed to haunt

Those who they love,

People laugh when they

Think of them while they’re

Still living,

Then cry when they think of

Them, after they’re gone,

The dead never want to be

The reason for tears, I think,

Still, it happens, and boy

Does it stink,

—In the literal sense, too,

So why do the dead haunt

Some?

Maybe because of what

They’ve become,

Something to cry about

Instead of causing

Happiness,

A mix of bone and loss,

Decaying flesh,

No matter what they do,

Loved ones are still so

Unhappy,

So sometimes haunting

Is better,

As long as they never

Leave you,

In their minds, they won’t

Be something to simply

Cry over then forget.

…

Don’t forget them.