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May 19
my face is an open casket;
hear it recite obituaries and
watch the mourners cheer
and throw wild roses at my feet;
it's where the rot has started spreading —
like whispers. like applause.
rising, until my skin
resembles raw obsidians
until i am no more.

watch me hang from the ropes —
in hypnotic grace, like suspended light
flying, swaying.
a circus freak.
a certain state of decay.
watch me fall: a weightless,
motionless thing in the shadows.

a vigil.

yet the curtains fall
and mourners leave one by one —
their wrists, stamped with lilac ink.

a vigil.
a funeral.

a freak show and
its curtain call.

lay a cloth on this open casket.
i do not want to be seen anymore.
fray narte
Written by
fray narte  22/F/Philippines
     Brett and ---
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