A Lesser Pain
by Steve Rylor
Saturday, June 15, 2002
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Comforting words too often strike
too late, an ear contrite
A kind word makes the spirit soar
above the threshold of death's front door
Such a word I have not heard
my spirit drifts slowly downward
Let me touch before you go
so for awhile, I may know
Save for me a whisper sweet
save for me, my soul complete
In the end there is much debate
but in the end, it's far too late
Better to die with your hand in mine
than to live alone in my time
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