In Potter's Field,
In Potter's Fields,
In potters fields
lie the faceless,
the wretched masses
of the cities
These potter's fields
many souls turning
that one day
restore into worthy
This is a poem about the destitute
who die with no money to bury them
all over the world daily,
it is a huge tragic group,
take a walk sometime in a potters field.
and note the disconnection,
because they only get numbers for graves,
no name, no history, no anything,
just a number.
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