What happens after death? A question we ask,

A blatant secret of ages, a truth that we mask,

We all have different theories, in our vows, and religions,

We all have different deaths, disease, or decision.

But when we lie in the casket, buried in dirt, underground,

When we rot in the grave, without making a sound.

The truth will come, whatever it be,

That will only be for said dead to see.

We’ll find the secret, if it even is there,

But if there’s not anything at all...We’ll all rot elsewhere.