Page 1, I wrote this piece when I was bored. It's not been edited at all (like all of my poetry).

the one thing we can all rely on is death
but there is beauty in death,
we just need to look deeper

as the angels of death descend,
their black feathered wings
fluttering, as they decide on their victim

young
old
they don't care

painful
slow
they are sadistic

quick
painless
they are gentle

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