The Final Line

This is the end of time.

It’ll wash away the grime.

Eliminate all the crime.

And it won’t cost a dime.

There is no reason, nor any rhyme.

There is no obvious paradigm.

Nor any explanation for the climb.

Only to be taken in it’s prime.

The reason is impossible to divine.

The exact cause none can define.

Perhaps it was always there, just benign.

All I know is this is the final line.

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