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Grace Eccleson
Poems
Dec 2011
Roadkill
No horns, or box, or mourning
No tears, or even thoughts
This was not a young child's friend
Cruller to be uncaught?
The mangled body lies
on concrete hot and firm
No use or care for man
not even for the worm
Better to die quickly,
then rot in open sun
than slowly fade in forests
and ever merge as one?
Us humans, we know better,
we will bury a friend.
We may **** our own kind
but you'll go in style at the end
Written by
Grace Eccleson
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