Black Death
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Black Death
Where they go they won’t return;
To the ground the houses burn.
A crow’s face to shield from death;
‘Till they breathe their final breath.
An island to store them; the tainted population.
The crippled remains of once strong nation.
It’s pointless to cry and scream and run;
You’re departed regardless when the week is done.
Credited to ShadowLurker
Originally posted on Crappypasta.com
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