The Perfect Hiding Place


A robe found immortality

Wandering the sands at dusk

Scanning the horizon for expired vessels

 

The cemetery was a ways off

It waited for new deliveries

But the living didn’t care

They were celebrating over the vessels

That had once been menacing

And the robe wanted to erase

Those laughing things

Even though they proved to be just peculiar

 

They continued laughing

Becoming goblins or other ghoulish sentinels

Taking the grains of the desert and hiding them

Inside fading laughter

 

So the robe decided to bide its time

Skirting the goblins

Appreciating a long life

And waiting for the mirth to stop

Survival would be easy then

 

 

 

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