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The Last
There is nothing left. The multitudes have devoured my desire. I wish, and it means nothing. It is not worth, worth. The slim scale of solitude which I hold in the place of desire. Everything I have ever held sacred is nothing. It laughs at me, as I slowly bleed. Nowhere, was it said, that I, in explicty must die. Here I hold you, rocking my baby to death. I'd kiss you goodbye.
