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when death comes I’ll need not love – consumed , no wreath or dove could offer me salvation , not when I’m no more . a weathered stone will bear my name – identity of once a being living out existence in a world of risk , and never seeing sense of why we’re here . my genes will die away through child – hue of eyes and hair , the way of thought , will quickly dim with generation – bow to future dominance – memories of provenance resigned to curious few . when death comes I’ll need not grace below ; no grieving face will call my resurrection, not when I’m at ground –
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Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 2:51 AM UTC
visiting from out of town .
when death comes I’ll need not love – consumed , no wreath or dove could offer me salvation , not when I’m no more . a weathered stone will bear my name – identity of once a being living out existence in a world of risk , and never seeing sense of why we’re here . my genes will die away through child – hue of eyes and hair , the way of thought , will quickly dim with generation – bow to future dominance – memories of provenance resigned to curious few . when death comes I’ll need not grace below ; no grieving face will call my resurrection, not when I’m at ground –
miranda-schooler
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Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 2:51 AM UTC
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