Your Dying Day - Poem by Jessi Miller
As the blade pierces your side
The blood pours down
You fall to your knees
On th cold hard ground
The graveyard filled with people
Some hug eachother, some cry
You're in a tiny box
On your back you lie
They lower you into the ground
And say a small prayer for you
How's that suppose to help you now?
What's that suppose to do?
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