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Eliot
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I am myself
Poems
Feb 2012
Removal Services
Skin becomes ashen
Crumbles lacking moisure
Muscles rebel
Tendons detach
Bones crack and splinter
Stripped of flesh
Where has the blood gone?
Without a heart to beat it cannot flow
Once there was a steady thudding
In this cavernous hole
Now the edges are jagged
Its contents removed
Death is becoming
To these pale features
A rest with no pain
Agony so constant of late
Merely a distant memory
In a moment
Even those will be gone
All is final
Written by
I am myself
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