Title: Необов'язково

Text: Death is real. Someone's there and then they're not; and it's not for singing about, it's not for making into art. When real death enters the house, all poetry is dumb. When I walk into the room where you were and look into the emptiness instead, all fails. My knees fail, my brain fails, words fail. Кожен абзац буде тестом.

Save test: Використовуйте це, якщо ви хочете поділитися цим тестом на друкування (тільки для автентифікованих користувачів).