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Gaol Of Flesh

Poetry By: TahmeedNabi
Poetry



Who knows what goes on in the afterlife? Who knows how lonely it is?


Submitted:Mar 16, 2014    Reads: 8    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


Struggling and suffering

In the chains of my own flesh.

I'm lethargic and exhausted,

But my mind feels very fresh.

I try lifting my fingers,

They're the easiest by far.

But lifting even dainty things,

Felt like lifting a car.

I'm trapped in my own body,

A prisoner of my bones.

This darkness is eternal,

And I'm crushed by heavy stones.

It's lonely and its dank in here,

And my body is made of lead.

If I knew that it would be this bad,

I'd have been cremated instead.





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