lying on her back
in a poppyfield of red
she never told a soul, not even a lost one
but the fact was, she's dead
a ravens flew by, scaring butterflies skyhigh
no rain fell on her skin,
no aching pain or hurt within
lying on her back
in this poppyfield of red
most to her liking an old Willow tree
and the Shadow he sheds
defeated by life never cheated by dead
the reaper came lurking...sizzling
he made it easier to forget
..
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