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Rated: · Poetry · Dark · #1820570
ONCE YOU FACE DEATH YOU CAN SPIT IN HIS FACE I DO IT HERE

Death be not proud some have called you mighty and and dreadful but thou art not so.
Many fear your icy grip but I do not you hold no power nor control over me.

I am the master of my fate the captain of desires
So death be not proud.

Ir is I who am in control not you.
You hold no sway over me vengeful spirit
My soul is not yet yours to claim
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