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This is what we have become:
Disapawntments with heads held high,
And you, my queen, torn from your king...
Sweet straight line drawn, and castle's..
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A statement, silently spoken
In chilling tones, and measured breath;
Of fear irrational, and future, bleak,
Still holding to my senses...
Selfish ..
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Paradox exists in all, and it was begging too much to ignore...
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