Gothic poetry....Collecting Bones

Below the dark and crusty earth,
a cemetery in its birth.

Endless expanse of passage ways,
encase the bones of ancient plagues.

Millions of souls that met their death,
as each one took their final breath.

Verman and fleas dispersed disease,
contaminating where they pleased.

Corpses hauled in trenches deep,
bodies stacked at least 5 feet.

Walking through this dreaded scene
unfortunately it became routine.

Rotting remains in neighborhoods
the stench of death it overtook.

Bones of all were then exhumed,
piled high to be entombed.

Macabre chambers and carved archways,
the beauty of death put on displays.

Enscripted warnings in etched limestone,
and femurs walled the Catacombs.

Burial vaults and enclosed tombs,
statues, alters displayed in rooms.

Walking long the crumbled floor,
the musty smell you must endure.

Now you see how death embraces,
collecting bones and skinless faces.