Premature Burial

I lie now so quietly in my grave

Facing woe and sorrow

Premature burial’s slave

Swallowed by a wave.

A second chance I can never borrow.

A Horror now so pure

A world of so few feet.

Alas my fate is sure.

Now never to abjure

In regions so obscure

With such Satanic lure.

My fate is just and meet.

I hear the bells intone

A solemn elegy.

I populate this world alone

Beneath a stoic marble stone

What horrid lurid full white moon

Might have left me hear to moan?

Do not for me weep bitter tears

For I have met my righteous fate.

Here I shall spend so many years

Until all memory of me disappears

When others lie upon later biers And they too may suffer this horrid fate.

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