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The gift of nature


Death is the very best gift of nature.
How many times,
How many uncounted times
Have I wished
Nature would be kind to me.
But, no.
Maybe it has a time and maybe even a place.
To fulfill the destiny.

It is hard to forget those days,
When men were cut to pieces
And blood flowed like rain
How high it rises
When your head is gone !

It is my destinty to carry this image of carnage
Even past my own end

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