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Live My Death

The smell of a rose cannot be as blossomed,
              as the essence of a beggar man's word.
The chocolate off a child cannot taste as sweet,
              as the rumours everyone's heard.
The sound of a murderer's cry is more tuned,
              than the music of a song bird.
But now from this, I'm let be,
I can live my death, so calm and free.
Written by LeesAngel
Published
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