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Jul 2017
Found alone, unappreciated.
Each finger trailing my bones, gazing intensely at me.
These judgemental stares surpass those glares encountered in life.
Found buries beside an untrimmed hedge, a locked door.
Never welcome, never cared for.
The foreign feel of these gloved hands.
This alien touch ******* me from all that I had left.
Nothing is left inmy possession.
Just looked at, not understood.
Each lain brick accounted for, not a thing out of place.
All these indentations eft by footprints mark what should have been my final resting place.
I wrote this poem using a skeleton display in a museum as a stimulus #mshed
Mida Burtons
Written by
Mida Burtons  17/F/Bristol
(17/F/Bristol)   
554
   Amber
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