Still-death!

I was miserable
That’s how I saw myself
Walking through these graves

I carry with myself burdens of deprivation
Seeking poems of happier times
In recollection, in remembrance
Of happier times, when
The streets echoed with poems of abundance
But this deprivation that
I harvested for myself
It carried me afar, far from my home
In the unknown streets
Leading to the graves

I looked miserable
Walking naked in those graves
With flakes of poems
But the questions that I asked
‘On my anguish’;
The streets and graves
They responded rather clumsy.
They said: ‘I am still-death!’