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I want to live under the wing of night –

In the folds of darkness and dappled with stars.

I am a mind wearing a voice,

A bed of secret roses.

I crave this being –

An entity with a purposeful soul

And sound.

Good riddance to what I was:

A dreary-eyed mess of bruises.

Spitting shadows and weaving

In and out

In and out

In and out

Of madness.

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