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Living Death

September 9, 2016

A state of living death, creeps through my skin

no hope is left, no new yarn to spin

the prospect is bleak, dreary, unrewarding

these last free moments desperately hoarding

knowing the time is almost up, for this dream gone wrong

the music must stop, silence must replace song.

No more to be dancing, I must crawl to my demise

dully staring, not just glancing, at all those I despise.

Getting one last hit out of this absurd scene

Grim, menacing, determined and mean

Defiant even of that which I desire

this life to finally and terminally expire.




From → Poetry, Writing

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