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This Game
Sometimes I play this game.
It’s called:
What I Would Give
for one more day.
Sometimes it’s just little things.
Like a brush or a pen.
Sometimes I go all out.
I ask death to take me instead.
Much to my dismay, he has not answered my call.
I’ve come close,
But every time he shoos me away.
I keep coming back, but it’s always the same.
I come and go,
This life, now all I know.
Not that it’s a life anymore.
Just me,
And this godforsaken game I keep losing.
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