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What lies beyond this last breath,
But emptiness and regrets?
Those memories, hard to catch;
Those petals… still as my Death.
In the echoes of church bells,
So many tales yet to tell –
Of the times before I fell,
Of the times when all was well.
Triumph wilting at the Gate,
To rest gently as my Fate.
Daydreams, laughter of an Age…
To be forgotten today.
Competing interests None declared.
Provenance and peer review Not commissioned; internally peer reviewed.