Life
The only thing we have
Is taken, stolen
From our withered souls.
They slaughter us graciously
As though nothing matters.
Yet as they slit my throat
Like fresh flowers butchered
I smile, longing
For the freedom that death gives
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Life As though nothing matters. Yet as they slit my throat Like fresh flowers butchered I smile, longing For the freedom that death gives Author notesNot what you were thinking from the title I hope anyway. A contest entry
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