A Chosen Death

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I dream for my soulmate to kill me,
One soul, born for the other,
Brought down just the same.

As if in a Shakespearean play,
A knife through my back or a poisoned glass to my lips,
Forever slow and meaningful, never swift and painless.

Yearning for the final act, where I must pass away,
A lovers kiss, my silent desperate plea,
In death, finding solace, yet love remains with me.

For death, I pray, come and set me free.

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