Everything in life has built up to this moment,
The final push,
The last hurrah,
I look at everything long gone,
Smiling at all the wonderful memories,
I look forward at what is to be,
I see nothing but darkness there,
Not even the unknown,
There is no life at all...
The pen goes to paper,
For what will be the finally time,
And just as I come to the final line,
The ink begins to run out,
A metaphor for the end of my life maybe?
The ink runs out,
Just as the final line is completed,
I am now devoid of ideas,
Devoid of inspiration...
Devoid of a heart...
My life has run its course...
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