My Friends Look Like King Herod
I wish there was nothing
But pretty death
Because friends disappear
Like casual breath;
There should be daggers
Flying from ancient graves
To kill passionless slaves
Selling trinkets of precious memories
Like they were dime-store casualties!
Corpses should cover the ground
Like hungry seagulls at the beach,
There is no love,
Merely eternal defeat!
poem by Uriah Hamilton
Added by Poetry Lover
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