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Irony of Death
Dying has no death; but it dies
yet so often. From a dot called
life, it devours the stretch of time.
It is a festering wound,
an entity of eternal
recurrence - feared and respected.
It does not stop. It will exist,
indefinitely, forever.
It breathes and enjoys to live more
and more; cursed entity - dying.
Pity! It simply knows no rest.
