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Cast Out

Dead to me? Don't be silly.
Death begets grief and regret;
it spawns sorrow in stillborn wishes
that echo in unbidden moments.
I mourn my dead.

You shall be suffered to live.
To breathe. To subsist as less than.
As substantive as motes in the dark.
Thrive there. Or not.
So removed from my reality
even memories fail to linger.

Dead to me? Don't be silly.
I mourn my dead.
You, living, lack the ghost
with which to haunt me.
Scattered_Thoughts
Written by Scattered_Thoughts (ST)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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