Bloody Stick's Poem by James McLain

As I fall into your square with round corners,
bloody my stick wears your name.
Others have come to the edge of the door,
this door from above me, that hangs.

One feels the sharp razor's edge,
while the other keeps a promise not kept.
Did you know that where ever you go to die,
that body once yours they loan out.

Others like me can remember your name,
the name that you have since forgot.
By forgetting your name, they have but to gain,
the rest they can hide in my box.