lower than seven feet under

Times in life,
the down is underground,
beneath the seven-foot grave
they dug her grandfather.
soul decays faster than body
when maggots feed from eye sockets,
emotions are as stale as
a year old cracker sitting
on an abandoned shelf.
the pain subsides with each
passing wind, carried
into the atmosphere,
eventually flocking down
in sheets of rain.

there is a want to believe
in salvation, happiness
of any form, but her soul
continues to break down
in the soil of feverish plenty,
beneath the seven foot grave
they dug for her grandfather.