Death
My 6th sense is hardly a blessing
A gentle caressing?
No.
Death.
My sense is to smell the smoke of death
Dates and times
They blur and rhyme
I try to escape but there is no cure
For something that is so impure.
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My 6th sense is hardly a blessing
A gentle caressing?
No.
Death.
My sense is to smell the smoke of death
Dates and times
They blur and rhyme
I try to escape but there is no cure
For something that is so impure.