R I P
Recycled insanity plea,
keep rewriting your own personal O ... B ... I ... T
Rest in peace,
death is the waiting room you so desire to see
Shuttered windows in your head,
light is a luxury not afforded to the dead
Cobweb attic ... wilted flowers in a photo scrapbook
Dust covered memories,
only seeing pain everywhere you look
Your feet are on the last step
leading to death’s door
Painful labored breathing now easy to ignore
At your bedside sits a bottle of empty despair;
you had made a habit of recycling the pain,
and making the same mistakes
over and over again
Recycled insanity plea,
always pouring your flawed decisions into a different plastic face
Multiple personalities dwelling in the same desolate place
Now it’s time to lay down and take a long rest,
your trembling hand writes down a final request:
On the way to the grave,
tell the lead funeral hearst to make a left turn
Why bury a body that’s gonna get burned
The last house move is from a cemetery to a crematorium ...
put your recycled ashes in a rusty silver urn
Your last thoughts were not on God,
which was really dumb
May your tortured soul now rest in peace —
but don’t go before the Judge of the Earth
with another tired, recycled insanity plea
Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2017
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