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Who died screaming, were pickled, placed in jars

with dull, defused light. Nameless, forgotten,

 

left in rows; cryptic as Venus or Mars.

Our sole purpose is to illustrate sin,

 

debauchery, and crimes against Nature.

Why come down here? Why bring your big flashlight

 

and sleuthing hat? What would an amateur

find here but horror? Love in defused light?

 

We are all someone’s lost child. Some mother’s

push and shove and sigh. Left here like a clue

 

to be deciphered by you; some smudge, dust,

something clever, which we are not … clever.

 

See? You’ll never understand us. Not you.

Not the one who turns away in disgust.