March

My heart beats like the drums of war as I walk in. Smiles surround me when I resentfully march to my death in an event oddly resembling that of the dreadfully depicted indian rituals. I can almost touch death surround me in a cold, icy embrace. It is a snake wrapped around my guts, my lungs and my heart. The weight of the snake settles upon my chest as I accept my fate and take the last breath of freedom. I say goodbye to a little piece of my soul. One more piece, more more patch of irony.

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