Non-Erotic PoetryMy FuneralPeople staring in a crowd
dressed in morbid black
ashen faced
the burnt oak coffin
lowered slowly
into an open grave
this funeral is special
I am present
a spirit hovering
above the mourners
I'm dead as a doornail
just a distant memory
an ex member
of the human race
an epitaph
facing the elements
fading away
into history.
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