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Is it true that you can stab your memories, thrice-
to rescue the ashen laden priorities,
of all fueled desires?
Is it hard to understand that the motion of an extension
point towards a dot?
An Eternal bathing, under the shower of a movement.
Some flimsy verses stringed and sung-
With feigning voices for a black body moon?
There and here,
A universe cannot be constructed, For...
Death is pardoned-
As the land is never tilled for bread and belongings,
But for death, itself!
But true to that,
The splendor of birth is conserved within time-
Reason, Romance and Vigor,
lacks the pace to forfeit the game.
Give tending, to the decorations of all sorrow,
A False face must hide form all defining tomorrows.
A false heart-
knows how to be a serpent underneath,
Thus, They apply this motion to the process of-
an extensive defeat!
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