poetry critical

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The flood gates will open
When the storm arrives
The land and ocean will surely collide
There is no doubt, that people will die
And that is a fact, we can not deny
Sleep is the cousin of death
and death is the killer of life,
An impossibility to avoid makes it the knife
But that doesn’t mean, we do not try
All people are born with the soul purpose to die
Some people cope, with drugs such as meth
A second of living, an eternity of death
Everything given only to take
Living amounts to all that we make
Death is abstract, never explored
For once you are there, your can never be more
For once you leave earth, its something to see
we are blocked by a lock, that was made with no key

7 May 13

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