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Sep 2018
Tiptoe so as not to wake the dead
Who slumber underfoot,
Their empty heads
Resting on mossy pillows of stone;

All their gelid dreams sour with time,
Beneath linen of soil and grass,
Under pounding paces of passersby.

At night, hear them snore and brood,
Chattering, gnashing bare bone gums;
At dawn, they roar and call and hoo,
They whistle through a naked cheek,
**** long-forgotten tunes
Through combs of dry and brittle teeth.
Written by
Natalie  17/Non-binary
(17/Non-binary)   
617
     Ansley and Persephone
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