Where the stairs collapse

Do not ever be deceived
whether by a told testament
or a tempting testimony.
Without you, the world would be,
maybe even better.
One mouth less to feed
A pocket less of greed
One less page to read.
A grave less to dig.
There’s nothing deep about dying except the grave
The promise of afterlife is how they enslave
We are air,
the kind in the mix of dust
We rise and then we rest.
We may just rise longer at best.


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