I cursed the day that you were born.

I waited, breath baited, for your last to be drawn.

I’d always imagined that when the day came.

I’d celebrate your demise with the finest champagne.

That on the day you laid down and died.

There’d be joy in my heart and a spring in my stride.

I’d throw my hands high in the air and wave.

I’d skip through the streets to dance o...

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