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The Final Vision

A Poem of Morbid Foresight

By Kourtney RisherPublished 6 years ago 1 min read
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WaterSpirit by HaiweiHouL

I see it, not that far off into the abyss of the black shroud we call life.

It's a vision that is more visible as the years go by.

In the distance I see a tumor-bloated corpse floating down the river with rope burns around the neck.

The river is surrounded by trees.

The air is thick on a cold winter night that hell would welcome.

The body drifts down the river and into a cavernous lake.

Neptune swallows the body up and guards it from the world.

The world will not miss a man who doesn't want to be found.

He should not be missed.

No one should miss a broken man.

I see it, not that far off into the abyss of the black shroud we call life.

I see the day a familiar face loses his soul.

sad poetry
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About the Creator

Kourtney Risher

I'm a poet and an aspiring novelist from El Dorado, AR.

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