Her voice
But a whisper as
Death clutches
Her tiny frame
Her eyes
Dirty windows
Unbreachable
As her sins
She takes to the grave
She tries in vain
To convey her pain
As her words
Rattle rasp and hiss
Incomprehensible
Empirical
The language of the dead
For surely she knows
Her death
Given her pain
Will be a welcoming comfort
She closes her eyes in Anticipation
Her breathing short and labored
Her mind and body have
Betrayed her
Fragile and frail
Wrought of disease this
Husk of a shell
That was once so beautiful now
Unrecognizable and
Soiled in excreta
Silently crying as
She lay dying
Ravaged by unwanted
Memories of a time
Long Gone
Living is easy she
Mused
It is death that is hard
And with that final thought
She gasped
And she was gone
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