Hot Georgia breeze
Burning my cheeks
Staring down at dirt and rocks
I realized that "nevermore" was my fee.
Here one day and gone the next.
Seems more like a dream denied,
But a bed is still cold, and the food still fixed,
Lying in a bed unable to even sigh,
Life is cruel, circular, and always changing
Even in a one-horse town in Georgia.
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This Poems Story
It's about a sudden death of a beloved pet.