End

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End

In the twilight of the beginning of the
End of the world,
I stand in the dying light.
Rippled pages of my story told through


Past tears shed rip like soft leaves wet




With morning dew.
It makes no sense to come or to go,
Not anymore.
The air smells alive,
And I can almost hear the

Chorus of heaven singing me home.
I stand in the dying light,
Alone,
In the twilight of the beginning of

The end of the world.





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