The sky is always
so perfect.
The birds are chirping,
the clouds are making
smiley faces,
the sun
feels so warm
and peaceful.
Everything is just so
wonderfully magnificent.
This is when
death
shows us
his face.
This is when
those
that are closest
to us
are ripped
from our lives.
And everything
still looks perfect.
I don't see
how that is.
But it is.
We have no choice.
We are here
to suffer
through the
most splendid
of days.
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