A thoughtful gift death proves to be;
one escapes a world of fear and hate.
A loving curse lets no one flee.
From strife and time to war and fate
and sickness abundant, it's hunger we sate.
No don't resist, don't fight, embrace!
Its a cold warm feeling this blissful state.
The stricken already wear it on their face,
the soon to be acquiesce to fate.
No man, angel or being may remove this plate.
To eternally dream is our aspiration.
Behind this veil from God we hide,
but not from fear, we're an abomination.
Nothing we do can turn this tide,
all we can do is bide our time.
Death, fate, inevitable time.
They are the same in meaning and rhyme.
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