chapter

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one chapter has closed,

the next page not quite written.

a partial future, gauged entirely

on instance.

a chapter fleeting,

an attempted disguise

to hide what is changing,

or to prolong an inevitable goodbye.

so one door is locked,

the other lacking a key.

go find a window,

and let your hopes fly free.

just hope for an epilogue,

one where you are left to define.

the variables by which

you live or die.

perhaps this completed page

is but a prologue

and the rest of the tale

might just loosely be based

on events put in place.

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