work scrible


As i creep up to your gray statue
all i see is the wrinkles on your face,
tide marks of fading smiles.

life is creeping out of you with
every forced laugh and regretful smile.

The itch in your feet has gone,
the anger that drove your fight out of sight
boxed away with the Christmas decorations.

The earth calls let the worms have their fUN.

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