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Wilt, droop, and Die.

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Spiritual deaths aren't sudden,
They're a gradual digression.
We start out healthy, happy, and pure;
Having faith to endure.
Then a small step beyond the line,
Makes us wilt, but still feel fine.
We continue on without a care,
Not knowing we should be scared.
Our petals droop and lose their strength,
No longer carried by our faith.
Screaming for nourishing, but not far gone,
Tears are shed--the Swan Song.
Our once blooming soul begins to die.
We will have to pay the price.





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