The End May Be Near
Death is slithering around you,
Taking us slowly one at a time,
He smiles and laughs at us few,
As he walks around in his grime,
He thinks we do not know,
There are few of us that do,
His presence he shall show,
To those who have no clue,
He loves the taste of blood,
And screws with our lives for fun,
When the people throw him in the mud,
From that day on no people shall he shun.
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