Is it time for me to go?
I'm not quite sure,
my mind is slow.
Blood is running down my cheeks,
and I can't really feel my feet.
There is red-all around,
pulsing, pounding, I fear I may drown.
I hear loud wails, but I can't place them.
My demons-I might have to face them.
Something light brushes my face,
and the blood is gone without a trace.
My hair-it burns, so fierce aglow,
My fate I fear I do not know.
A light begins to shine above,
and sounds form into words once loved.
I can see a pure white dove,
beckoning to me from above.
Is it time for me to go?
I think that I may finally know.

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