Challenge
"Everything is a kind of dying"
Prose or poetry.
Born to Die a Beautiful Death
I have no special immunity
From my time's incontinuity.
I will age, as sour, in time
Like a grape, our, on the vine
Unbound, I'll drop to the ground;
Brown, lost forever, never found.
I have a ghost and it is time to give it up
When I see, half-empty, my Victory Cup.
Nights will fall as days will rise
I'll lie in state, when time-to-live dies.
For I was born with beautiful apoptosis,
And not, with bountiful, apotheosis.
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