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Upon My Burial

18 Nov

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I sing, softly, a sad and empty melody
from here below, ‘neath tempered earth,
as I lie in this grave which I now furnish,
and have kept in stasis for all its worth.

I cry to the heavens, tho’ it cannot hear,
as if my ears would swallow the sound,
and in my reach to none but human stain,
I find odd comfort, six feet underground.

Let me wake not, that I dare not wonder
how such madness began, and enflamed,
nor ponder my position, while still alive,
that I am yet here, unknown and unnamed.

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Posted by on November 18, 2015 in My Poetry

 

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