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Epitaph
As I write this I contemplate
The meaning of this ever sickening life,
And why the invisible hand of fate
Will not relieve me of this endless strife.
Yet I constantly fear
That I do not have the nerve
To embrace what draws ever near,
And find the peace I so deserve.
I pray that it shall be no surprise
When I breathe my last breath,
And meet my impending demise,
That with open arms, I welcome my own death.
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