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There stands death
There stands death
a black distillate in a waitresses leftover coffee cup
the only answer when even the echo does not reply
There stands death
a masked figure whose face you cannot see
black hooded wretch who beckons come with me
There stands death
reaching out for you with both hands
While you do not dare take a single breath
As a child i played hide and seek
While hiding i heard my breath
thinking
Death is hide and seek
Never being found
ever again
There stands death
beau golden
poem
by
Beau Golden
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