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Living Death

by cookie foot 4 years ago in surreal poetry
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Thank you for reading.

I am not good very good at letting people in.

My tongue handcuffs sin.

My gray metal teeth are the

hard and cold

metal bars to a dingy jail cell.

I may not be doing the best

plain and dead

It's nice to know you're well.

A rose whose thorn

has never felt

the softness of your skin.

A headache sworn


of every dropped pin.

A lone cowboy

with pockets full

of some truth to sell.

The dark places

behind the stars

after the sky fell.

There are many who have never known me,

I have never been.

My eyes are eyes you could never see,

Death is not an if but when.

surreal poetry

About the author

cookie foot

writing is my therapy don't bully me

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