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They never sought him out to let him know

Withering, he stayed, growing weak

As if his flesh would burn out their eyes

His voice, wrench the ears from their heads,

And shatter their hollow skulls!

What hath he done, this creature, unknown

In character and stance

To be inflicted with such rage and fury?

Ah yes, to be unknown is to be frozen in

A barren vault of loneliness.

Withering /

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