children, Literature, Poem, poems, poetry

Epitaph on the death of M.

I feel like I’m being killed
by an invisible dagger
What is it?
My soul? Maybe –
Is my soul in my brain
mechanical doll
can’t stand straight
and look in the eye of the
danger

at the cemetery
at the grave
it’s dark
but I can’t feel anything
It’s foggy and dull
I’m looking into the hollow eyes of nothing
she is dead

What does that mean?
there
really
d.e.a.d
it is inexplicable

things like that were not supposed to happen

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