you put me in a box standing up
and filled me in with mortar
you worked fervently in slathering
the mud upon my body...
as if time would escape you
or maybe me
I always told you
don't hold on to that you will never keep...
and my advice you wouldn't grasp
you were always good at
ridding yourself of needs
to fill yourself in with wants
my face has yet to be spackled
Do you leave it bare for a purpose?
perhaps when it's faded...
you can truly remember me
perhaps when I am gone...
you will know what I was
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