Now comes the time for reflection. From the swelling memories crawls the need for redemption, constenting, to the body. It had its place, but cage its open, and broken, by the weight of its sight. So in this remorse comes time to forgive, the sins that have haunted this worn skin. If every manner can begin, the history its lost within, for solace knows its humble king, be a place to begin.
The nature of the beast is to tell you the truth as it sees, not the way the world really is. We could go believing the words as they, tied it seems, to reason we lost long ago. Free for the quest, reliquish the best of our selves.
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