Fatal Man

With the possibility of a mere crack,
Fatal man is on his way back.
He is the wind he changes direction.
A flea lands,
laughs, bites, and my body
she dissolves with infection.
His face is sure to make me cry, I’ll leave
As soon as he arrives.
With a six foot descent
My greed for us should fade,
And for the first and last time,
Fatal man will hand me the spade.

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