He’s pale flesh, corrodes away…
A morbid stare
To he’s stagnant daze.
Black filled eyes, and painted cries.
...
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Reminds me of a Smiths song, first line 'Oh Mother I can feel the soil slipping over my head'..... very dark poem you wrote here EiP. Your forte it seems! HG; -) xx
I agree. Good work: -)