ELEGY FOR A SNAKE OIL SALESMAN

Photo sourced via CC, credit here.

Photo sourced via CC, credit here.

This is where I laid it to rest,
the loyal heart dead in the breast.

This grave needs no marker:
The memorial is the scar.

The fresh earth calls for a eulogy,
the air heavy with want for an apology.

I buried all the lies you told,
poured out the bottles of snake oil you sold.

I gave last rites to my naïveté
and trust that succumbed to decay.

The obit will read a polite tale,
but you and I know the truth well.

Cause of death a stranger,
a casualty of your shit wager.

Here lies your integrity,
along with several pieces of me.

What is the going rate of a soul?
Nearby, the funeral bell tolls.

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