In the hall destined for silence, where no word incarnates into awakening,
A desolate abode, where the heart rests free and in falling.
Torn tears flow, rivers of troubled and sluggish melancholy,
Thoughts that hunt me, that follow me relentlessly, merciless, fierce, potent.
Memories, tapestries of time we used to weave together,
Now just specters that slither in the shadow,...
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