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Personal Narrative: A Symbolized Death

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I pulled the trigger. Everything went dark. We were all reunited.
I 'm nobody. Always have been, always will be. Everyone that knew me: friends, family, foes... all dead. I 'm lost, alive for nothing. I 'm liable, though who knew flowers contained that power: the power to kill. I 'd picked up that tempting, black rose with thorns of daggers. It hadn 't bothered me until now, but roses cannot grow black! I 'd thought it was amazing, turns out, it symbolised death. I 've no purpose now. I 'm useless anyway: couldn 't even resist the temptation. And there, within my reach, the gun.
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