the passing thoughts
that come after death
like flies on the flesh
cause weeping from the eyes
but no one care about me
as I sit her and die alone
waiting for bacteria
to deteriorate my bones
back into dust
until I am no more
just a passing memory
that soon will be forgot
say what you want
nothing can be said
that will stop this poisoning
I let spread
and soon my flesh
will be gone so
nothing is left
but my soul to
be tormented
so I guess I
can't win even after
death
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