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Oh, Death

by Meghna Mathur


Oh Death, don't you get tired?

Isn't it exhausting collecting the admired,

Dreams and dreamers

Who fear you their whole lives like an unshakeable fever?

Do you never think your collection excessive,

Of frozen vanities once expressive

With the rivers of reveries

You now bury?

Do you ever pity the ones on the other side,

Making rules just to abide

And feel some power against you,

You do, don't you?


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