Greedy Graves

Down the street lie the bodies,
Hundreds of them, dead and rotting.
Carved in stone, each their name,
Buried in wood, six feet below.
Their ghosts still parade though,
But with no escape from the cemetery.
Everyday another one is added,
The graves dug so far down.
Each hole awaiting its feeding,
Hoping for another death.
No one can escape from it,
We're all going there... dead.
And the cemetery knows it.
It's like the devil of bodies.
It owns you when you die,
Putting you into one of its greedy graves.