Shallow grave

What is this poem that I see before me
It’s dagger towards my heart
Would the words by a poet of any other name
Read as sweet

Does a poem require meaning or feeling
To become more than letters on a page
Or is it suffice to roll a dice and randomly string them together one after the other to form an adage in which some dope might hope to find coherence or a piece of their mind

But not of yours
Where words are just words worth nought
A shallow grave where you misbehave
And, shy from a life of hidden depths
And bidden deaths,
Your peace of mind is betrayed

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