December 12, 2010
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i raise my hand against the sword that is raised above me, it's wicked blade glowing in the light of the fire. i try not to cry, i try not to show my fear, but i am afraid. i am not afraid of death, for i know it will welcome me warmly. no, i am not afraid of death, but the one who wishes to give death. the sword comes down, and scarlet blirs my vision. soon, all i see is black, i start to feel cold. soon, the chill turns warm, and i know that i am dead. i am not scared of death, in fact, i am happy now. i am leaving, i am going home....

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