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Poetry for the soul
They point the hate towards me,
A spear to strike me down.
But why the haste and hurry,
I can't help but to ask.
With or without your willing,
One day I'll have to die.
So don't be sad...
A spear to strike me down.
But why the haste and hurry,
I can't help but to ask.
With or without your willing,
One day I'll have to die.
So don't be sad...
