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November 7, 2020
Tried all the days to scarf its skin, plunge my I through the rough to brandish melody of the inner song to become the song, become the rhythm lost at birth in a morass of cacophony. Such as it was, the I drenched itself in forgetfulness, dropped off its place of face to become many faces, all begotten of lies ground into its flesh of light, darkening the days no matter how bright the sun shone. At the time when all was seemingly lost, I found a face that was true. It met mine and all the lies disintegrated instantly.