I guess I'm dead because I died. I still can write, don't seem surprised, Just clasp my wrist and wave goodbye. The lightning snakes against the skies, Veiling false cures in black sunrise. I guess I'm dead because I died. There's something in the perfect lie That favors friends and happy sighs. Just clasp my wrist and wave goodbye. Tiny seemed the most fitting size For poison poised inside a fly. I guess I'm dead because I died. Am I
I've been thinking about trying to tackle a villanelle. Nicely done!
“The words of the dead are modified in the guts of the living.” —Auden