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Aya-Death Angel
Mostly poetry, no real deep thought. Just a place for momentary bursts of creativity.
We waste away, withering beneath the sun,
Everything we worked for is coming undone.
You feel ripped down to the tiniest shred
As you look at your feet and see the dead.

The flowers bow their heads in shame,
For the men who thought war was a game,
To be played again and again, never to lose,
As if Death's button said "Snooze"

They've learned their lesson, and so have you,
You're sorry, you realize that's true.
But there's not a road that leads to anywhere,
So you're stuck here, rotting, going nowhere
.





 
 
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