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The Art Of Death and Dying

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Sometimes stillness takes over,
And i let it -
I'll be still one day forever,
And this -
This is just practice.

What does it matter ,
When breath will leave my body,
Blood will still and cool ,
My pulse will falter,
This is only practice.

My eyes will nevermore focus,
No Music will reach my ears,
The cry of grief not audible,
Only the mocking of the crows,
Ashes to ashes,
This is only Practice.



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