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■ The oak
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Testing the waters of
madness, my foot slips in and the icy awareness snaps me back to reality The circling buzzards wait and watch as I falter, yearning to pick clean my bones I climb onto the slippery rocks, moving trance-like, determined not to let the truth of what was take me down with it - for being conquered by delusion is not my will and though I stumble, I will not fall Waiting for my surrender will be their lonely burden, starved by my fortitude, the negative forces within and without will be kept at bay ...and I will survive, triumphant!
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