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The portentous honeycombed night Relumined floating moonlights Soliliquizing the harshness of the past day Distemperately awaiting death of a decade Muggles rereading misrit garded winos
 I must admit I am quite compelled,This path doesn't seem to fit me,Wondering now if I can turn around,Trying to make sense of this,Intoxicated ,Oh these stories they kill me,
I saw them They gathered water And the constant turning As if she was waiting for change Like someone to rescue her Or save her from her own fear It scared me Kept me alert
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