death of the writer

it's the death of the writer

a funeral where the future is much brighter

without the dreams- no, nightmares- of the pessimistic out of the way

the coffin is where the flowers lay, petals astray

roses and daises in a display

blood red and cream white. . stems a sickly citrine 

the music that streams is quiet and bleary

like the things they wrote before they grew weary

.

.

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Author's Note

Pardon the nonsense.

Reviews

[Chris]

Feels very self-deprecating...