Death chooses its next victim
It has a list, it has a system
No one can deny
That is why I cry
It doesn't care about your age
It is all just a blind rage
It doesn't care about your race
Fast or slow, it changes pace
It doesn't care how you feel
Maybe this is all too real
Death has a date, it is fate
And no one is ever late
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Poem / Poetry
Short Story / Mystery and Crime
Poem / Other
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