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Nigh.
I found it on the ground one day
Hidden deep within my soul
The anguished look behind its eyes
Dug within my heart a hole.
The pain laced in its motions
Told me soon it would be dead,
And reminded me of memories
Of tears so long past shed.
So when it drew a shallow breath
And prepared itself to die
Its ragged voice then broke the calm,
"The end is growing nigh."
Its eyes, they fluttered open
It was about to speak once more,
But then, it breathed its final
And forever shut that door.
The voices in my head
Recalled how it had died
They recounted its final words to me,
"The end-
Is growing nigh."
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This poem was born when the realization that no one saw the world the exact way I did. I had to put a new pair of glasses on the world's unused eyes.
So I did.