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On edge of death, lies my own reflection.
An echo of self in mortifying repetition.
Every reincarnation is another execution.
A ceaseless cycle on infinite iteration.
How long has it been since its initiation?
What’s the purpose of its remanifestation?
Why every life unrolls the same direction?
Would never shall I ever see its termination?
At dawn, it starts with no recollection.
Come morning, sets in a deja-vu sensation.
With evening, I dread that evil premonition.
At dusk, realization, desolation, ebullition.
Yet again begins the next trepidation.
Identical evolution, replayed frustration.
On edge of death, lies my own reflection.
An echo of self, a mortifying repetition.
- Rishav C.