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Cells crowd on top of cold linoleum

Piercing A.C. cuts through grey walls

Corporate suits cover the crematorium

beyond glass panes. A vast wasteland calls,

winds whine in pain, overturning limp plastic shards

The drilling of thunder into soil

Each quiver sends Earth into toil

Supple willow limbs shrivel to crumbling bone

Vibrant pink petals quietly wither on grass

where brilliant rays once cheerily shone

The glossy stare of a nonchalant face

Flimsy green rolls flash before it’s two

eyes, a low growl of “It is what it is”

A heel spun, a back turned to

the stench of decay a suffocating noose

over post-modern sculptures of debris

disintegrating from disuse.

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