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Vividly dreamt of dying last night,
shuffling off this mortal coil,
dreadfully suffocated
with no choice, no way out;
couldn't turn to a God that wasn't there,
nor the untruth of their promised heaven,
just a silent struggle against the bleak
nothingness of death, plain non-existence.

Slowly succumbed against faltering will
and faded to black.

In waking life,
scents trigger memories of
seasons and events
that I want to crawl back into,
away from that nightmare of
horrible inevitability.

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The following comments are for "Death"
by verve

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