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11.13.06.1674
If you knew not what I know,
then you would know not what to show;
for there is nothing left to see here now.
Ye, could we be so cryptic,
in our own mind alone and mystic;
no absolutes exist within certainty.
Dream the self into reality,
where depression collides with eccentricity;
I am not where you have found me any longer.
Nothing.
Made.
Fallen.
Nothing.