Would that I were ashes scattered,
or wrapped in black with edges tattered,
reflects my broken mind, 'tis shattered.
Death, no fearsome thing it be,
as someday all will come to see.
Sooner, though, should it claim me.
Call it Life, 'tis much to bear.
Quickened clap in startled night air.
Face I Death?.... Do, I dare.







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