The World is But a Library

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The world is but a library,
Each life, but a book.
Words and pages endless,
Everywhere you look.

The story of the soldier,
Words so brisk and quick!
Hopes and dreams between the lines,
As the trigger clicks.

The blooming of a fleeting star,
Her roots in humble mud.
Full blossom lasts but a page,
Then the book's closing (*thud*)

The fate of star-crossed lovers,
A slow, mournful prose.
O, a cursed passion!
To yearn a thorn-donned rose.

Dust-filmed towers of tomes unread
Whisper as we pass.
Murmurs of great wisdom, unsaid
Treasures of the past.





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