Obligatory Sickness

Skeleton bones floating in the domed ceiling

Like a storm they morphed and formed

Into a regiment, strut, strut

Turned into a run like the camels racing

And upward they flew, to somewhere unknown

Kicking a nicotine habit and replacing it with

A penchant for picking out perfect air freshners

The getaway car got a flat tire

After running over the rubber chicken

The turncoats turned their horned ears

And raised their muskets high

The hill glared down upon the fallen men

With a grievous demeanor it leared

Onward and upward! Fix bayonets!

The men they cried and then they died

Like locusts in the nest.

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