They Know

They know

Where they go

When they die.

Although

They still cry,

And hug and kiss,

And love and hate, and miss

One another so dearly.

Sorry's in the eye, teary,

Doesn't expose the truth clearly.

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But they know

It's fogged like snow,

and just as beautiful.

So they live dutiful.

And cut waste at the cuticle.

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Hands in faces--

They stop the rat races

To show their mutual respect

In awe of the unknown-- they inspect

Why the inanimate always comes to collect.

The End

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