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Final thoughts
A Poem by
Pól
I want to die,
wither, a sigh
leave all behind
no kith
no kind
nothing that binbs.
Frets
fear
and the searing searing pain
vanish.
Extinct.
Just like me.
© 2019 Pól
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Added on July 10, 2019
Last Updated on July 10, 2019
Author
Pól
Ireland