Post Mortem Anxiety

They’re twiddling fingers
Tapping feet
Passing time
At the funeral

Some cry
But the others
Are stale
They’ve passed
And maybe it’s insensitive
This impatient eulogy

Sum it up
And meet me for a drink

I’d rot
But this cadaver
Doesn’t have the time

I’ve got nine lives
And this death
Was only my third

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