deepundergroundpoetry.com
Confusion
As she stood in front of the wrought iron gates
Of the Selmont Cemetary
She wondered why the Temporary Agency sent her there
So she took the paper out of her bag
The note clearly said The Fermont Cement Factory.
She felt like dying on the spot.
Of the Selmont Cemetary
She wondered why the Temporary Agency sent her there
So she took the paper out of her bag
The note clearly said The Fermont Cement Factory.
She felt like dying on the spot.
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