Today's prompt is to write a poem with uncertainty in its ending and a question.
The End
We live our lives in fear of death.
We live our lives heedless of the end.
We live our lives, delusional invincible,
with a shadow most of the time we forget.
We live our lives. Or do we.
And when the credits roll
and the curtains close -
what will our stories be?
How will they be told?
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