My lady carefully uncrumples the papers in my basket when I am not looking. They will be treasure tomorrow she says as she hides them in a drawer. Some should have been left dead. Others will haunt me until I visit this mass grave, resurrecting them.
Your poem says it so well.
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My lady carefully uncrumples the papers in my basket when I am not looking. They will be treasure tomorrow she says as she hides them in a drawer. Some should have been left dead. Others will haunt me until I visit this mass grave, resurrecting them. Your poem says it so well.