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The blinds are closed. Still a bit of daylight         filters through. My hands, my "me",         invades the space. The bed flutters in the       softness of the room. Tracing my limp body with                 my matted hand. I feel death. Sense it. Wait for it. My body will be so cold when it ceases existing . It frightens me. Saddens me. Empty cadaver emptied           of my essence. Without a sound,   my soul will depart. I pray. Beg. Implore. "Dear God, let it not be so." But it must be as God decides. Novenas and rosaries fervently said. Muffled words that fall                         like mud in the air. When they come and prepare me                                    for my funeral,                                     I will not cry. No. No tears. Instead, embrace peacefulness. Close the casket lid,                  I'll be gone.
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May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 9:15 PM UTC
Muffled Words That Fall Like Mud In The Air
The blinds are closed. Still a bit of daylight         filters through. My hands, my "me",         invades the space. The bed flutters in the       softness of the room. Tracing my limp body with                 my matted hand. I feel death. Sense it. Wait for it. My body will be so cold when it ceases existing . It frightens me. Saddens me. Empty cadaver emptied           of my essence. Without a sound,   my soul will depart. I pray. Beg. Implore. "Dear God, let it not be so." But it must be as God decides. Novenas and rosaries fervently said. Muffled words that fall                         like mud in the air. When they come and prepare me                                    for my funeral,                                     I will not cry. No. No tears. Instead, embrace peacefulness. Close the casket lid,                  I'll be gone.
ChrisGVaillancourt
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May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 9:15 PM UTC
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