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May 2020
I will wear my collar,
Of flesh and skin bound tight
This pop-up meat tuxedo,
Will fall apart eventually

Sometimes the suit itches-
Like it was tailored
Of heavy wool and corduroy

Sometimes the weight is too great-
Dragging my hardened soles
Of human leather

Our bodies are a prison-
Interning the mind and soul
Until our skeletons cease to dance

But every sentence has its end-
I'll hold hands with you
Into the sunset
As we fly the coup
And escape into the ether
I think that most people view death as a terrifying end of the only thing we have known.  I like to believe after we pass on, we find a peace that we have never known and will welcome the chance for some rest.
Michael Stefan
Written by
Michael Stefan  37/M/Minneapolis
(37/M/Minneapolis)   
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