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89 · Apr 2017
death
david nyong Apr 2017
Oh death why art thou taken so many
For every ten born thou take to yourself twenty
Will your cold touch spear any
Wilt thou take bribe of pennies
As we emerge from the womb
We shall go to our tomb
We came as flesh and bone
Shall we return home
And our names carved on stone
For who wherefore want to remain here

— The End —