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The dark shadow of death
Follows me through the night.
Three and a half steps behind,
My footsteps echo his
Hurried and stumbling.
His eyes mirror mine
Frightened and wet,
Seeking anything familiar in the darkness.
His hands are bound,
Guns, ropes and drugs
Strapped across him.
Weapons, heartbreak, disease.
Which one will be my end?
they cover his mouth,
muffle his words.
He tries in vain to breath life and warmth
To his blue and numb fingers,
Though his breath is colder
Than the air submerging us.
The journey is long and cold,
I'm not sure where it ends.
I look back and wonder:
Is he following me
Or am I following him?