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by Odoyle
Rated: E · Poetry · Death · #953034
This is a poem I wrote a few years back just after my dad died.
Slept
What it is
What we become
For all, we are but monsters
Delusions of your mind
And what we see
Is not what we are
It's what I am
What I become
So make me what you will
Gone
Lost
Is it to be
Envisioned in a dream
Then it must
For it dissolves us
And yet in death
We seem to be immortalised
Damned that we are
Etched in stone
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