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To my grave I march,

only to be welcomed with open arms,

Rows of pearly white gates

opening wide

their unoiled hinges

moaning out “hello”.

My hands are restricted

within the firm embrace of human shackles

and my heels echo on the marble

like a drumbeat at the execution.

Silence greets me as I take my place

and look upon my firing squad.

My heart beats. My eyes blink.

Sweat beads down my face

as I watch them take aim

and

fire.