Felicity C. Jones lay quite still in her casket
Like a pretty dead doll in a little girl’s basket.
Simon was first at the funeral, by her coffin he stood.
His face was sculpted steel, his were hands were rotting wood.

A week before Felicity was alive, but not well.
Under quite a horrid and sickening spell.
She climbed in the bath dressed in a veil
Staying under the water until she turned blue and pale

Simon walked in the tomb before she had faded
She might be alive if he could have aided
The fight against death wasn’t much of a tussle
Because Simon lacked the strength and much needed muscle

He couldn’t tip the tub,
He couldn’t lift her up.
All that sorry boy could do
Was scoop up the water in red plastic cups

So there, right in front of him,
A young sweet thing died.
Just another tragic case
Of preventable suicide

Simon was wracked with guilt
Black tears streamed down his face
His mind was beginning to wilt
Without Felicity in her place.


Enter Aurora in Janet, some would call her a whore,
Tripping over her bra strap as she came through the door.
Not far behind, held taut by the core
Was her Drag King in rags that dripped to the floor.


Samantha came in last, her violet eyes mean and riled.
Like the surgeon aborting your perfectly beautiful child
Her soul almost gone, her heart now exiled.
The checkerboards in her brain were perfectly tiled


Simon could handle it when Aurora came too close to tell

Inhaling near him saying, “How rancid it smells.”
But when she mixed his tears for an alcoholic drink
It sent him soaring and skipping off his sanity’s brink.


He lashed out. Slipped-In Elizabeth just wouldn’t cry.
So Simon began shaking newspapers for a goodbye
He suffocated her honest lies so tight in his fist
Elizabeth’s painted eyes hazed over in a radioactive mist.

Dana pounced on the moment to sing her complaints
Of how she disliked funerals and seeing dead saints,
“I hate seeing my shadow alive in the mirrors,
A creature darting in and out of their fears.”
Aurora turned to her and smoked in her ear,
“Dana, your lip liner seems to have smeared”

A change of the channel.

Felicity disappeared
The scene was just glass.
Simon kept watching TV
Sitting on his fat ass.

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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