11.1.14 Tales from Dead Ones 2

I’ve been beneath the floor boards for generations
Learning the foot falls as they come and go
As I make them go

When will they tear me out and
take me somewhere proper
Where I don’t have to be woken by the living
I don’t have to endure the constant reminder
That I get walked on by ones soon to be dead

They may not come stay with me
Keep me company in the base of this house
But at least they won’t bother me
I’ll be able to return to the peace
Of smelling the wood against my nose
Slowly rot along with my body

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