As each day passes by,
Death introduces himself even more.
And just like his accord,
He will reap what he sows.
I am the seed,
He means to harvest,
I am the soul,
He's supposed to collect.
My time has come.
I am a seed no more,
But rather, a full bloomed tree.
Whose end is about to come.
Whose time is about
To rest in peace.
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