I WILL BE GONE

Palm – 170114

 

A nip in the air.

A chill in my bones.

The Dead will be here

And in our own homes.

 

Palm trees will shiver.

The ground will quake

Along the river

And by the lake.

 

Take me far away

From this creepy place.

I refuse to stay

And see his pale face.

 

THE DEAD GAME 

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