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Cargo

by

Michael Steele
Reincarnation cast aside,
only in solid logic is there relief,
for some solice in family,
for others comfort in beliefs,
in middle age a desperate knock comes,
in stillness of life,
hair turns grey and wrinkles set in,
both run like misfit teens,
judgement comes,
sentence is rendered,
we're all sinners,
the half dead are led on trails of mist,
as resistance and rage persist,
stacked in blood soaked satchels,
upon a stagnant dock,
for one way delivery,
when the clock expires.


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