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Thursday, June 30, 2005


  death shall become of us
our puny woeful lives
lest we find immortality
tangled among lifes vines
though our thoughts are all but happy
and our hearts are all but pure
nomatter the circumstances
all are perched over deaths door
we dream of live beyond our end
forever plagued, we still pretend
pretend that we have some small worth
pretend we're meant for this akward earth
and do, if thee believe in the lord
as I may hope to dream,
because life,
though horribly twisted,
is never what it seems.
Death shall become of us
in its somber creeping way
Death shall become of us
Our souls prolonged with dismay

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