bleak
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Death is slow
Like a sick flower with bleak petals that no longer grow
One by one, the petals begin to fall
Unable to avoid the final death call
You tell me I'm unique and they say I'm a freak.
Excuse me, sir; but who gave any of you permission to speak?
The clergy plays their swan song
You cry out it's all wrong
No one notices over their song
Leather skin the casket holds
The corpse didn't even get to see twelve years old
