Inside The Morgue

Inside The Morgue
Bodys sleep
I sleep
I find it cold here
The cold embrace of death is the hand of my roommate
I hope he shall not think it
I hope he shall not think.
For once
Everybody is jealous of me
For I have blood in my veins that runs
Like the presidential candidate
They only have a stagnant swamp.
Every body is jealous of me
For I have lungs that breathe
Like the initial gasp of hypothermia
They only have deflated airbags that could not save its passengers.
Is jealous of me
For I have a heart that beats
Like a boombox hoisted atop a boy's shoulders
They only have an old rusty machine.

But I hope they shall not be too jealous to
Break the dam keeping the swamp still
Reinflate the airbags
And creak the rusty machine back to life.
Just so they can make me
like them.

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