I am suspicious of graveyards
Manicured lawns and lively flowers For the dead. I am suspicious of the stuff Who wear a smile planted on white teeth While they gate-keep the dead. It all must be a rouse, After the burials, they undig the dead To bury then with another body. To save time To save money To save space for the dead.
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AuthorI like to write; point blank. This is a little piece of me that I get to share with the rest of the world, and hey, you know, maybe you'll appreciate it, maybe it'll do nothing for you. But my writing exists, and that's enough for me. © 2019 Silvia Iorio. All rights reserved.
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