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Not a Cat with Nine Lives
Call the mortician,
He’s run a year late;
I was dead long ago,
I had accepted my fate.
My emaciated skeletal system can’t be repaired,
The residues of my wasted brain can’t get any older.
P.S. You can’t heal a broken spirit
With a butterfly kiss to the shoulder.
Who do you think you are, a surgeon?
Well, be my guest: give your magical soul-stitches a try.
Just don’t go around blaming me
When you hopelessly cry.
I can’t reincarnate; I’m not Buddhist.
Show me nirvana and I’ll break out in hives.
Don’t try electric-shocking my corpse, either.
I won’t reawaken; I’m not a cat with nine lives.
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