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I generally hate to write rhymes, but sometimes they just appear...
The door, it beckons
Calls forth from time and space
But where it leads I do not know
For it is quite a foreign place
Step through the door
But my senses elude me
This heaven, this hell, this place
I cannot tell what it could be
The thoughts and feelings
morose and bare
Memory strikes in the back of my mind
I can't help but stare
I look down upon myself
My body limp and tattered
A painful grimace remains on my face
But here, it no longer matters
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