Day 13: Write a ghazal (explained in the link).
An angry soul, he was, born alone, bought and sold.
All his life he lived a plan, stolen goods bought and sold.
To wit, a pot of wilting flowers, never watered
but cared for from afar, memories bought and sold.
Take time to denounce the plan, even before
it's been presented, skepticism bought and sold.
At the end he wore nothing, empty, bereft,
materialism at it's finest, time bought and sold.
They spoke quietly at the ceremony,
a gaggle of mourners, cackling, bought and sold.
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Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Incubus, Pantomime
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