Sweet Rest

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You are a disease.

An infection that wont go away,

Eating me alive, a little at a time.

And though I may not be dead yet,

And have held out for all these many years,

I promise, you are winning.

This is sure to be the death of me…

You are sure to be the death of me.

Your love hurts.

Your care kills.

And I am on life support.

Do with me what you choose.

This fighter is down for the count.

The darkness doesn’t scare me anymore, like it did when I was young.

It promises sweet rest.

People always say “Don’t go into the light” when someone’s almost at the end.

They had it all wrong.

They should’ve said, “Stay awake! Don’t go to sleep!”

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