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by Bazman Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Death · #1242651

My lastest poem and my finest so far.

Escape

My body lays upon the ground, a gun by my side…
There is blood on my hands, and a bullet in my skull…
Death is near, I can feel its dark embrace taking hold…
Sanctuary from this pitiful existence, or ‘life’ as some call it…
Now I am cold, my light almost extinguished…
A frail smile now resides upon my face, I am content at last…
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