Muscles tight, taut
Strong with blue blood
That runs through your veins
Feeding your healthy heart.
Energy rippling through you
What can bring you down?
No, not nothing.
No, not frigid winter days
No, not hellish summer heat
Not fights fought
Won or lost
No, not nothing.
Then why?
Why did we finally find you
Half buried in the rushes and reeds
Wasted away, shriveled
Eyes pecked out by birds
Who did not fancy worms
Carcass hollow, gray maggots writhing inside.
What could bring you down?
Samson, did you sleep, your head in Delilah's lap?
Did she shear your lovely locks?
Did Judas, his lips, touch your cheek?
No, I guess not.
Someone says they parted your fur
And saw several fat ticks
Blackish, bluish, stuffed with your blood
Heads still buried in your skin
Mingled with fleas still snipping
Nipping what they can, scurrying
Lice still hatching their nasty nits
Still clinging to their host.
Don't worry,
They'll leave soon.
You have to be alive
For them to stay.
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