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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Death · #1124975
The thoughts of death.
Death consumes me
The thought of it entombs me
Very unlikely am I to leave this state
My mind's made up, too late
Are you to save me
Just enslave me
Like a black
I will come back
But it will cost a few men
Soon I will win
This battle of destruction
Follow my instruction
Take my advice
Make death suffice.
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