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May 2013
When you die there’s nothing left to fear
a corpse won’t take it's tears to the grave
neither it's baggage, mortgage payments or stress
or any ****** up aphrodisiac in their wake.

When you die, it’d be like you never were
like poor children in the planet, just like before birth
a specimen that never came, a *** shot nature aborted
a funeral without flowers, laying to rest on an empty grave.

When you die tears will be shed, nothing else
buried memories and good anecdotes but nothing else
just a one ticket to ride, no one else will come on along to an afterlife
on your journey of worms and maggots until their due date.

When we die we are spoiled milk, dust in treacherous winds
that we once enjoyed in the form of a cool summer breeze
ashes sprinkled in tombs that won’t sleep, eyes that won’t weep
only the unforgiving passage of oblivion awaits.

When death knocks once there’s no use to be scared
greater men have come and gone, Lennon, Gandhi and King
some say that immortality is a sin, but I see it more as a shore
little use is to live when it’s better to sleep in a shallow empty world.

When we die.
Ottis Blades
Written by
Ottis Blades  New York City
(New York City)   
960
   Gul e Dawoodi
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