March to the end

Passage must be written.
Before the day is done.
Unless all saints are rotten.
And end of days has come.

Water burns like fire.
And air has turned to dust.
With each step we will tire.
But march on we now must.

The gates of hell await.
Whom never really knew.
To give before you take.
And help the weakest through.

Selfless are the ones.
Who even when it burns.
Help the helpless ones.
And give out all their turns.

Jaga seda luuletust

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