The After-life.

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when i died last year..
i was just three-twenty..
now i work and wait and wear..
a smile of bliss-less plenty..

no further can i go,
my soul is now my life,
the death is still and slow.
you wait and wait and strife.

i lived in some dream
to conquer and to tread.
then i woke up with a scream
to find myself so dead.

the world now is so still,
-what always remains permanent
-is change-, but here change will
even not be as determinant.

 

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