Midnight tolling on the clock
Footsteps on the stairs
Fingers fumbling with the lock
To free herself of cares
There she sees her sleeping
Peacefully in her bed
A pain that she's been keeping
But soon she will be dead
She stands above her watching
Knife gleaming in her hand
She is finished watching
Send her to the promised land
Arm poised above her head prepared
To end her cursed life
In her fit of rage, she is not scared
Down descends the knife

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