Death

This body must decay and die. I look at these arms, these legs, The smell of my body, Perhaps for the last time, everytime.

I awoke as if from a deep sleep. A jolt of bells, A bolt of light. I looked at my hands in fear and wonder.

Adieu! Sweet fingers, Farewell! Fond thumbs.

Brian Routh

Learn by heart: tap a gap

This body must and die.
I look at these arms, legs,
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