Soon It Will Be NightMature

My life.

My personal blight.

It is my right, as the walls close in and it becomes tight.

Soon it will be the night, and I will be engulfed in the blood dripping from my knife.

Dripping. Dripping. Dripping.

My Life.

My life is tilting.

It is wilting, as the flowers lose there bloom as the sun makes it final boom.

Soon it will be the night, and I will be engulfed in the blood dripping from my knife.

Dripping. Dripping. Dripping.

My Life.

My life is waiting.

It is luring in the incurable, blurring the durable and writhing in the written word.

Soon it will be the night, and I will be engulfed in the blood dripping from my knife.

Dripping. Dripping. Dripping.

The End

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