Mornings dark, bleak and
cold as a dead man's hand
I have been practicing my
casket pose and with time
I will be perfect
Praying for it with air of vanity
I linger on to the anchor of sanity
Putting on a cloak of smile and calm
As the rays of the sun hits my palm
A bird's chirp had killed my death
by Victor Samuel (@thevictorsamuel)
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