Skulls are buried in every grave
Names carved on all tombstones
The dead decomposing in peace
Mud stains on all the bones
But don’t go wandering in there
And disturb who are in peace
If you are a photographer
The last thing you’d say is cheese
They will make you visit houses
And eat dust off their rugs
They will pull your ears so hard that
You’ll hear ringing in your head
And empty filthy coffin
Will be your grand new bed
You’ll spend the rest of childhood
There singing a ghostly hum
But wait this is not the worst part
That part is yet to come
You’ll have to choose a ghost career
With your own desire
You can be a ghost or zombie
A werewolf or a vampire
Then you will get a partner
For the rest of your adulthood
You will have many children
And promise you…. will never be good.

Risha Ahmed (12 yrs)

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/032-graveyard-hustle-bustle/