Untitled 3

Murderer of my dreams,
how you suffocate them
like newborn babies,
claiming they were born wrong:
an inbuilt cancer,
an innate illness.

I can't help but sit beside
their little graves
and peek into
their open coffins,
entranced by their empty insides;
Marry me or bury me with them.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2013

Poem

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