i am buried

Like a king confined
by a future of shackles, i sit in my
big chair and listen, and grieve.

i am burying my brother.
i am burying my child. it matters not,
as i think only of me.

light fades, tightens its grip.
time is my best friend
who accepts such lonely things.

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Filed under conceptual, dead, death, poem, poetry, Uncategorized

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