Purple Rain

The son of a king

We shall become
loving vultures,
picking at the body
while decrying
the very same.
He is hardly cool,
to the touch,
and we will begin
the endless wonder
at what made him thus,
and what marked
his greatness.
We have said little
of loving words
on his behalf
for the last
five
years.
What do we really mean
when we adorate
post-mortem?

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