Epitaph Poem by Shraman bajracharya
Epitaph
Black suits followed by the black clouds
He is sobbing through his deadeye
Tears are numberless as mourners arrived
The corroded bones, the mortal body
Lying six feet under beneath the grey soil
The corpses around him are now his true friend
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Topic(s) of this poem: clouds
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8/8/2026 8:35:33 PM # rel_20260806T081513Z_580e7f4
