Saturday, October 26, 2019

Poetry #124

They did not know
but the holes they
dig are not what
leads to buried treasure.

These young fools
are digging their own graves.

In those small, confined places
they will have their final resting place.

But then again there are those
who just stopped digging.

They want to go elsewhere.
They want to die elsewhere.

So they convince the rest
It's not treasure they are looking for
but their own demise.

Even still
the foolish grave diggers would just
keep on carving the face of the land.

They've fallen in love a bunch of times
and certain promise of gold,
even though made up,
would keep them pursuing.

They will die happily
even without reaching the
false buried dreams.

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