You fall for the final time, alone
Among decaying angels and silent birds
Where stones read names to indifferent eyes
Like broken teeth
In a mouth that dare not speak

You lie among the limbs of a hundred souls
Yet not one senses you
New growth
Bursts through rotten flesh
Roots reach through the ashes
Mass grave
Becomes a copse of trees
Under shattered glass

Upon a bed of paint flake petals
Cocoons of stretched old skin
Teeming with life anew
Will these too also fail?

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