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Death is such a cruel mistress,
She takes what She pleases
I spy Her hair around the corner
when my daughter sneezes

Death always seems to take Her prey
as She plants the next
long before we’re even born,
our little lives are hexed

She comes to you with open arms,
claiming She’ll set you free
long I’ve sought after Her beauty,
not Her irony

Death is so coy, such a flirt
moist is Her forked tongue
how easily, Her love for me
has to hatred swung

I never thought I’d see the day
where I squandered suffering
to cross the Styx, I have no coins,
please take my golden ring.

There are a few pieces i’ve written in my absence, but rarely are they finished. I’ll try to get some up here. Hope all is well. Stay weird.

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