Buzzing 

I can hear the flies buzzing

since I died.

In life I could shoo them away,

open a window 

to persuade them through,

though usually they were

too stupid

to grasp the chance of freedom

offered and escape.

Now there is no window to be 

opened.

This is a closed space.

Eternal night.

No possibility

of freedom,

or escape.

Not for me.

Not for them.

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