Roadkill Poem by patrick omasters
Roadkill
Oh, little creature
what did you used to be?
Was your demise painfully slow
or lightning quick?
Will your babies miss you tonight
or perhaps
the old lady who puts out your nightly bowl of milk?
It's so hard to tell
as I go whizzing by.
Thursday, July 16, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: death
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8/28/2026 12:57:14 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
