It has been time . . .

Standard

That of thereof,

much to my demise. . .

that these days have been.

A yearning that no one will ever replace,

a place where i found,

my noose upon these neck of a turtle-that is none but a ninja-

weilding a fork to taste a sweet bittermelon, that has been dunk in a sauce of life.

Ahh contemplate me an ocean,

where i can at least talk to mother Tiamat,

and listen of all her deluded lies of the world,

and I wont be a Marduk about it.

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