each headstone
another marker covered
in misrepresentation
summing up
a life of
and failures
into a placard
reducing the spirit interred
into rigid numbers
polite reminders
an existence
into cold information
while erasing
all trace
of the individual
weather battered
trail markers
worn down to smooth stone
with decaying blossoms
eventually forgotten
as the world
more and more
to sate
its ever growing hunger.

all i see
in the morbid
deletion of time served
is the spectres
half seen
beneath the branches of
the willow
suffering the indignation
of being nothing more
than an all too brief
as life moves
steadily forward
with no sign of
looking back
as the weeds
spring up
on the recompressed soil
tightly packed
to keep the dead
at bay
like the eyes of
a lover
long since moved on
to the next
heart break

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