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INSIDE MY HEAD

ASHES

There are carcasses around me,
Whose pants are torn, and eyes are bright,
Who walk with limps, and heads held high.
Silent in their steps,
They pass each other.
Each of their lips, stitched with threads,
Black ones that spiral in and out of their mouths.

I stare at one,
And he gazes back at me,
Dark pools of red, and a smile on his face.
Silent still, he walks past me,
And when a little away,
We laugh at each other’s hypocrisy-
It is bright daylight,
But there are carcasses around me.

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This entry was posted on 04/06/2017 by in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , .
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