The Epitaph

Death does devour our devoted dignity,
Souls searching for something sensational,
Grace the garish greatfully grim grieving,
Impetuous to impede the impassioned,
Malicious are many with manifest memorials,
Regretting the rehearsed religeous remnant,
Trifled and tricky tribulations to the tribute,
Justify joyous judgements of jittery jokes,
Content with the contour of corporial containment,
Bravo to the brief brittle broach of the burlesque.

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