III-the grave digger

You lay there in the grave
reminiscing on your demise-

You reflect on your actions in detachment and see,
all the clues you somehow missed all along.

not all itches need attention.
not all wafts are safe.

Now, he waits some months in secret grief,
but he takes “her” home.

she sleeps in your bed, and your bones, damn bones!
will not take a rest in peace.

she becomes his “Mrs”,
you rip the coffin.

Na who send you my lady?

You escaped a life of misery,
you became the forgotten betrothed.

Na who send me?

Alas for unfaithful souls…
Alas for over sensitive noses.

Alas for all that made trust,
a mirage.



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