Our Exquisite Corpses

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A word

a phrase

twisted here, set over there

jumbled, bent forced into place

your reflection cast in ink.

Isn’t it grand, clever, such an easy game

We are all exquisite corpses

penned by careless hands, loving hands, cold hands

laying restless

left to wonder

is this really my grave?

Daily Post Prompt: Exquisite

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