Dyed in a wool
Scared to begin
Purple skin and eyes blood red
Now look at your toes
I see 12 not 10
And your fingers–
Why are they always so cold?
Bags under your eyes
And an unhappy smile

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Parker Jennings
over 3 years

Hmm, I imagine this poem being talked towards a corpse. Laid out in an open casket. Really not sure what to make of the twelve toes line...perhaps perception of the person is faulty? This poem made me sit down and think for a good couple minutes

Tony Hill
almost 4 years

Enjoyed this poem and others I've read.

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Parker Jennings
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