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God! Have mercy on the weak.

The sweat runs down my brow

the shovel is heavy in my hands

six feet is overkill, but i have reached my goal

the casket is prepped, the suit unstained

the end is near, but not for you

 

Come and walk with me in death.

 

Then the thought crosses my mind

"Is this necessary?"

such a permanent solution for a temporary problem

 

Come and walk with me in death

 

Do we ever have complete control

when emotions run wild

and the monster, the monster takes hold of you?

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Written by
shawn-fisher
American
Published
Oct 6, 2010
Lines·Words
13·88
Notes

(c) Shawn Fisher

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