Sunday, April 21, 2019

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-One, Poem Twenty



Been Done

Jesus had to do it once.
Now they've changed
the doors so they lock
from the inside only.

Now you get caught
trying to come back.
Jesus waits for Peter
to sleep at the gate.

Every single night
before the weekend,
you want to die
leave work hanging.

But with no way back,
all you'll do is leave
a poseur's corpse
heckled on display.

So you die as metaphor.
Big deal. Your friends
still think you're a c__t.
At least you don't hear.

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