Monday, November 4, 2013

A Gift to the Dead

She never asks for much
She takes what she feels she deserves
But a few flowers from someone who cares
Could make her feel like a princess
Like the ones she used to read about 
With such jealousy and desire
So she cries because she thinks she knows
That the only time she will be worthy
Of such an implausible fate
is when she is in the ground
And when it is too late

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