As we all
wait in line
to die,
life
or existence
is our fruit
and fault
of decisions
of the future
made in the past
on purpose
or not
that has brought
us to the now
of
one less breath
closer to death
that just lingers
trying to hold time’s sand
slipping through fingers
out of the hand
will the last inhalation
die in despair
to never dare
and just suck air
the ultimate rush
before crossing over
to the other side?
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