My Story
I have "A THING" about dying of late.
I do not know why, as self-pity I hate.
I am not afraid of the actual event,
I know that the messenger will be heaven-sent.
It's the uncertainty of not knowing.
The time and day that I'll be going.
It's wrong to dwell on such things,
I'm in no hurry to wear wings,
So I may fly away up high,
To solve this mystery, when I die.
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