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04-16-12, 09:53 AM

I had given Suffering, weary and drunk,
a place where it could rest its dead beat head.

“Once inside you may find a bed…
It is the one with sheets washed and pressed,
and pajamas, neatly folded, resting
as peaceful as the dead.”

He smiled, not as clueless as he is toothless and said:
*“Is it a dead man’s bed, where I shall rest by down-trodden head?”

I turned to him and said:
“Would you rather care to share my bed?”