Bodies Buried Deep

I walk the land of bodies buried deep.

Where the memories of those sleep.

All that’s left are their ornamental heads, signaling their sentimental beds.

So that they may remain to live lying, in a many memories truthfully dying.

What a fleeting waste, of a forgotten life, of a body placed.

Sadly the scythe we cannot cheat,

So our memories remain in those we meet.

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