In the end,what are we to those ideals we hold most cherished?Who would they choose under shroud of a listless sun?The dust draws near,and i stand alone,forsaken,shivering on the wing of time and tide.As dour eyes pale,struggle gives way to the whisper of a merciful eternal hush,and pain washes numb,laughing steadfast on memory's shore.The dream chooses me,a nameless gray morass,riling.
Where i linger and scream with all my might,so i turn and drift into the endless fog until there is nothing and i remain still.
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