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The Veteran General

A Dying Health

By Jake MainwaringPublished 7 years ago 1 min read
1

For some, a final resting place:

Into the arms of holy grace

Goes a creature so profound

That her feet don't touch the ground

Where broken's fixed

And potion's mixed

Feed the dying -

Where the crying

Are plastered with her lying bones

And stitched up with her final moans.

Now, pills can fix an awful lot

But as her hallways start to rot

She won't grow old, nor settle down.

The biggest graveyard in this town

Will be a place we cannot share

A place entitled: Virgin Care.

love poemssad poetry
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