decried by flora et fauna, preferring the depths.
it's hard to dig your own watery grave
filled back in and repeating with the tide
a homonym for the larger peace
of a sad, sad song
which is
never repeated and forever refrained
in the memory of those
wistfully clinging to the toasts they'll give
with the words they've saved
sung to a soulful sarabande of sorrow
falling on ears
of the truly doting in collective
pieces that assembled the hole.
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