chewing it
swallowing it
my deafened ears and blackened lungs
full of earth and stone
someone up above left a pickaxe and a shovel
a long strong rope and a pair of gloves
they're little comfort to me here
they'll never dig alone
should a brother have to ask if he's keeper of the other
still voice calling
dry eyes weeping
blood cries from the ground
exhume me
unearth me
i think these sod-caked eyes are ready
to see the sun again
i'm sorry
i'm helpless
compassion is a precious thing
and i've nothing to spend
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