If I were to give death a try
The world would be ending
The last of flowers dried and perished
Oceans boiled
No place left to hide my horcrux (i.e., you)
Neither any magic left in those eyes
The birds, flying off to space
Meteors punching the soft Earth’s crust
Nuclear bombs whimpering in a corner
World politics, with the only vote on the ballot — NOTA
If I were to give death a try
The world would have ended
— नि.भो.

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