Life and Death

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Its desolate blank eyes stare at me

No sound.
Its cold hands press against my skin for warmth.

No pulse.
It remains lifeless for days and I worry.

No life.
Week after week it starts to shrivel.

Death.
Death has mushroomed over it, but I try to revive it.
________________________________
Its face is not so white.

Heartbeat.
It lets out a giggle.

Laughter.
It hugs me with both arms.

Movement.
It shares my stories with the world.

Life.


Life.



Paper.





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