A poem in the past

That's all it once was

But now that he's dead

It's in the memory of

Ring around the Rosie

The flowers are thrown

Then comes the dirt

Hitting nothing but bone

A pocketful of tissues

Taken out with ones hand

Used to wipe away tears

From the death of this man

I hate to think that you're gone

I thought I'd see you again

There are still so much words

That I have left unsaid

I miss your voice

And that old chair Antique,

She always made you happy

God, let him be happy

Ashes to ashes

Guess who's dead now

A bullet in ones heart

And we all fall down