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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Young Adult · #2335843
Death loves his job. Here is one of them.
The night was dark
The air was thick
The weeping was as loud
As the smell of sick

The young boy lay
On a bed of silk sheeting
He was gone forever
His life, so fleeting

I couldnt help but laugh
As I watched the scene progress
Duty called, and I had to leave behind
All that beautiful distress




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