The Guardian

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Closing my shades, and locking the door
My soul recedes back into solitude,
For the final eve of my life

The aurora, made me rise
Turned into shadows of high noon
From, the twilight’s beauty
Occurred, the blackness from the dead of night

High in a tree my falcon, resides
During the blossoming of the spring flowers
Throughout the sauna of summer
Among the foliage of fall
Then, enduring the ferocity of winter’s wrath

But, on this fateful day, a lone owl watched over me
Studying, me throughout the night and day
And brought a terrible madness,

In the stroke of my clock, the sky became gray
With a looming tempest, drawing towards my location
The Heavens ruptured, into tremendous ferocity
Forewarning of my final downfall

As the wind gusted
My Breaths drew short
As the rain fell
My lips drew, parched
When the thunder, crashed
My heartbeat grew soft
As the lighting, illuminated the sky
My eyes drew dim
As Death came for me

You might be a king or a little street sweeper, but sooner or later you dance with the reaper.





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