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Jul 22
With fingers from behind the bed that reach out in the dark
The wrinkled skin, and sharp chipped nails...reminds you that shes come
You hide underneath the blanket, with little to no hope
As if standing upon the gallows staring at the rope...
Death comes in many forms...its unclear...which may come
But know that when it picks your name it leaves your body numb
It whispers your name...as if in a prayer
And if it takes you early, it leaves you...with no heir
Don't ask what it looks like for none that live will know
And if you go searching its power will surly grow
Written by
Alex  35/M/Los Angeles
(35/M/Los Angeles)   
187
   Amanda Goodness
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