deepundergroundpoetry.com
Assassin
You must be a skilled one
For killing me
Visiting my grave
During my funeral
One I never lived to attend
Standing there
Gazing at the soiled throw
Draped over my corpse
My phantom looking at you
With brooding eyes
As you let loose meaningless gibberish
“I’ll miss you”
Placing a withered rose
Upon my grave
For killing me
Visiting my grave
During my funeral
One I never lived to attend
Standing there
Gazing at the soiled throw
Draped over my corpse
My phantom looking at you
With brooding eyes
As you let loose meaningless gibberish
“I’ll miss you”
Placing a withered rose
Upon my grave
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