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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