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Cuts deep within ourselves

Knives in our own hands

Wounds still bleeding

Never to stop their stream

Unable to remember

When and why they were born

Still they pour their misery

To this rotting piece of flesh

Vision growing darker

Ready to be sent to the grave

Right after gasping for air

For the very first time

What on this earth

Could be more beautiful and true

Than the complete solitude

In darkness of death