Green
You were young,
Budded in your prime
And taken from your peers
In an ancient homicidal
Tradition.
By the efforts of many men
You have been brought to this
Fold, this spiritual awakening.
In death, your red hair still glistens
In contrast to your clammy face,
And it is beautiful.
God, damn any likened mortician who attempts
To alter your complexion.
I remove the plastic bag that
Keeps you from decaying,
And all indignation is cast away
As I tear you to pieces
And set you on fire.
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