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Death (a poem about Night by Elie Wiesel)

It follows us everywhere,
Coming and going as it pleases,
Suffocating us one by one.

Sometimes we’re awake.
Sometimes we’re sleeping.
Sometimes it hurts.
Sometimes it’s painless.

It’s not necessarily unexpected,
We are all just waiting our turn.

Murder. Killing. Suicide.
Constantly running through our minds.

Survival of the fittest.
That’s all there is to it.
Every man for himself.

All of our dreams, shattered.
Families torn apart.
There are NO families:
NO mom, NO dad, NO brother, NO sister,
NO friends, all enemies.
Us against the world; me against the world.

Death, silent death,
So sneaky and unfair.
Death can pounce upon you.

You won’t come when we beg,
But when we don’t want you…there you are.

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