ReincarnationA Poem by Hardboiled CapitalismShort poem
The putrid smell of death
Lingers stale within the air For 'while since the body's decomposed. Many a maggot had their fill And grew to fickle fly A body made to many more Than what its lovers cry.
© 2018 Hardboiled Capitalism |
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1 Review Added on April 2, 2018 Last Updated on April 2, 2018 Tags: death, existentialism, life Author
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