Yesterday I woke up half asleep
and couldn't shake the image
of my father
unnatural in his coffin
Somehow I knew his skin was cold
but couldn't seem to remember
reaching out and placing my hands
on his corpse
I thought this should feel disturbing
this should feel like a disease
this should be proof of something
But it was none of those things
And soon all I could think of was
the word, daughter
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