Bones

They ration out the bones of a dead man,

Having already forgotten what he once was,

He is but remains now,

The scattered offerings of their murderous haunt,

His life forgotten,

His sins forgiven in the wake of a new purpose for his once troublesome body,

The congregation skip his funeral,

For his killers have ensured that nobody remembers him,

The countless sums of money fattening their wallets are worth much more to them than he ever was,

Or so their minds attempt to tell them as they try desperately to justify the pathetic increase in their apathy,

But it is alright he would have said,

For I am no longer around to see your shame,

But their shame saw them,

It saw them very well and it scowled as they cried themselves to sleep,

Unable to contain their disgust,

Perhaps they were just as bad…

Perhaps they were worse than…

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