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I see her through the veil of youth,
A human so like me. "Come,
"Now dear, let us dress you. Come, now
"Dear, let us feed you." What a fear-
-ful thing to be.

Oh, to die a final death, to
Die while I'm a young man still.
Let me die while I'm still grown, not
Turn a child once again, to fade,
Not die, away.

For all our cures, for all our pow'r,
Is this world a better place, than
When we died at twenty-eight, young
But still awaiting fate, with joy
And will of youth?

There is a sickness no cure cures,
And it is not mortality.
Death is sure a sickness not, but
An end. For all of us it comes,
A kind release.

No, of something else I speak, a with-
-'ring of mind and form. For my
Creator it has come, and for
The "lucky" it will too. Thus I
Fear to onwards live.

Death I do not fear. Hell I do
Not fear. I fear to lose my growth, to be
A child, waiting, with pow'r lost and
Shaking hands. Death comes for us all…

But it should not have to wait.

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