Countdown

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ten he said that he felt okay

nine but you saw him fading away

eight the end was drawing close, slowly

seven his heart beat slowed gradually

six and it's almost the end of his days

five should you say what you wanted to say?

four or leave it, he wont accept it anyways

three make your mind up, leave or stay

two you waited too long, and to your dismay

one he's slipping, cold fingers losing grip, you can only pray

zero a flat line, no pulse, it's too late.

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