Fancy Clothes For The Dirt Poem by Steven Elsner
Fancy Clothes For The Dirt
Bought the rights to my soul.
Bury me in this small hole.
No need to cry.
I've always wanted to die.
Fancy clothes for the dirt
Surprisingly, it didn't hurt.
Vibrant flowers to catch your eye.
I've always wanted to die.
Soft words spoken to stone.
All that's left is bone.
This is where I lie.
I've always wanted to die.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
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4/23/2024 3:14:54 PM # 1.0.0.1119
