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Corpse
April 4, 2015
My secrets woven in the damp dirt
tangled in roots and lies
A mystery sprawled on the forest floor
Dead but alive, compared to the sun
Its blistering heat
spoils my flesh
decays my bones
Whispers circulate among the trees
whispers concerning the flowers
the ones that bloom through me
My skeleton has become a garden
of hate and roses
anger and vines
© Dan B., Papillion, NE
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