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Empty

Things just don't taste the same
as flowers drift aimlessly
on the outsides of my grave

there's no dancing
and songs get in the way

tommorow didn't start
but it's long long gone

I hear the raven and the crow
blackness it descends
I still see but it's dark

each passage blowing thru the breeze
even the devil tried to sell back my soul

I'm stiff, I'm cold
so cold
so very very cold

the march was merry
but I lie broken, unattended
pile, upon pile
the shovel weeps with dirt
Written by JusTim_
Published
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