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    I’m incontinent I soil the sheets my heartbeat is growing weak
    I even find it hard to speak as my urine from me leaks
    I strap on my colostomy bag I’m feeling like an old rag
    I stagger slowly slow and meek death for me would be a release
    My mind is like a leaking sieve my memories I can’t relive
    I walk a hundred yards in pain I stagger disconsolate and lame
    So my death I cannot wait it’s an event I’ll celebrate
    My funeral it seems to me is an event to set me free

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