मूल बोल
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Grey...cold morning air makes it hard to breathe.
Worlds...The sky wears a somber smile today. Clouds shift across the
horizon, something feels strange about this day, my chest is heavy and the
sky is falling uncertainty looms in my world of grey. I have an appointment
with death, doctors give me eighteen months to live. Why? Oh god why? have
you not already taken everything from me? I have an appointment with death,
doctors give me eighteen months to live.
