Bonestealer

I died. I rotted. Someone came.

Dug me up for some small fame.

Like the maggots, cleaned my bones

Removed all rot, bile, sand and stones.

Polished my skull creamy white

Tied my bones together quite tight

Made me wear a hat with a floppy brim,

Fastened my spine to a stick on a whim.

Fastened a stick with a point to my hand

Took me to a field, made me stand.

Now I stand among the crows and corn

I like this life in which I was reborn.

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