Lonely Bones

My bones lay cold under the rock where the water runs brisk. Preserved for years to be found a day when last I know to be at risk. No sound to be found, so quiet, so dark. Trapped before, trapped now, never at peace, let me die please. Forget my sorrows, let there be no tomorrow, I thought god at least in death, would have given me no unsweet sorrow.     By Rob Casteel

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