What then of me.

Just a sad poem

I am and there is no need for me.
I walk in tombs,
I wake the dead,
and they have no use for me.

I roam from throne to throne,
I have never known a home.

I live because death,
devious death,
has no mind to keep me.

I am and you are,
and when you are no more,
I still will be.

But there is no place, for me.