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A POEM: Here thos the days of my life where my friends die and their souls cry.my mother weeps as my creeps closer to his impending doom,and here i seat alone in my room.not moving are doing anything at all.my life seems to be under the spell of a voodoo doll.torture of pain never able to be felt, and this dreaded hand i have been dealt. truely these are the end of days,when my friends die and my soul slips away.to be honest i never wished for this to happen,but what can you do?it's all out of my hands*sigh*