Hereafter Street

Would I take back a careless word,

Let loose to a gypsy wind?


Damn the poetry; yes I would

With every secret held under my skin.


The skin that’s breathing its life away,

Like an automated clock that sings-


My Life has been a disappointing one.

It’s too late to address such things.


So I’ll shut my trap while sentimental fools

Prepare to weep over my grave-


And dress awhile for Him in Black,

(Now, now, my Heart, behave!)


A road ends, another begins,

So mark my words on a sheet-


And repeat them, when you too

Shall journey forth to Hereafter Street.

The End

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