He Lies Here

By Jacob Olian

I rest in my damp residence
Beneath the treads of others.
My flesh is gone
And the appearance
Of my youth
Decaying.

I stare at the soggy brown
Around me.
And I cannot move
For my muscles are gone.
And so is my sprit
And dignity.

In honor
I lie.
I lie to myself
For I
Am dead.