No Name
My body is a cross
Filled with earnest piety
My body is an old-man clock
It ticks away idly
My heart is burning fire
Coals of black but red
My heart is wrapped in wire
Enclosed and never fed
My soul is scattered dust
Tiny specks of dust
My soul is but a memory
The earth now holds in trust
Copyright © Kurdt Cohen | Year Posted 2014
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