the land of the dead

 

how damp and squalor fills the air

whilst the river hums it’s sombre, deliberate┬átune

i live now in the land of the dead

the land of the souls own choosing

 

ghouls of unwanted or unnecessary potential

enclosed within its unknown borders

left to float, bide, stagnate, damn and chide

until their release is called, tension droops

 

shoulders slumped, bent neck, wet legs

released for another go, another try

i live in the land of the dead now

waiting for my turn to die

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