deepundergroundpoetry.com

Confession

A corpse sat singing
Playing for some gold
Bodies stood waiting
Praying for their turn
Angels prodded kindly
Moving along the line
Sand was busily seeping
I couldn't mark the time
Doubts came creeping
Massaging mind and soul
The singer reluctantly abandoned
His pot of gold



(C) 2014 XMAR82 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Written by xmar82
Published | Edited 3rd Feb 2017
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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