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Even in death,
          your last words
were cremated within you.

Like a whispers
                    in a jar
rotting in your lungs.

Words were maggots
             eating away within
                         yearning for release.
wherever you are
i hope these words find you well
i hope that you realize
you have many more stories to tell
even when the weight
becomes too heavy
wherever you are
if you aren't right now,
someday you will be smiling
swinging in silence
consolidated within
that maximised impulsiveness
keeps on growing
Under her dark veil she wrung her hands.
"Why are you so pale today?"
"Because I made him drink of stinging grief
Until he got drunk on it.
How can I forget? He staggered out,
His mouth twisted in agony.
I ran down not touching the bannister

And caught up with him at the gate.
I cried: 'A joke!
That's all it was. If you leave, I'll die.'
He smiled calmly and grimly
And told me: 'Don't stand here in the wind.' "
So much to be said
So much to be done
Yet the silence keeps killing
And actions stay down
.....had you but known..
..would you have whistled so gaily?
drooled over page three of a national daily?
too late for regrets
all bets are null as you head for the void.

There are always works in progress that's why it's so good.
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