Brush
Everybody I know has an undertaker,
sitting in their room.
They use it in the mirror, with admiration
In their eyes.
Everybody I know has an undertaker,
Sprawled out on their desk.
It sometimes wears zebra stripes
And often times wears pink.
Everybody I know has an undertaker,
They can’t help but hold it.
It consumes dead life,
with its nails gripping their DNA.
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