Poetry

Burial

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And when I’ll be laid,

.

Wrap me up in the best of wools, 

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Preferably fine, with embroidery chic, 

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Lips wine, eyes filled with kohl and stare of blanc,

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For when I am no more,

.

Miss me not, 

.

But remember me,

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As someone who once lived for sure..!! 

Figments
Diary of a tired soul- Chapter 5- I, me, myself

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