The Hermit

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There was once an honest man,
Who lived afar, in the dark,
And not a single glooming soul,
Came to disturb his heart.

He lay cold on the mountain heights,
Fled from the strings of man.
Came to a prison of himself,
To understand a gem.

Free from a life, too full of light,
Now living in the darkest room,
His face, his eyes, and his whole heart.
All felt so full of gloom.

Tricked as he was since just a youth
Repeteadly betrayed as teen,
Left for the dead as an adult,
Now just a sour old scene.

And the conclusion, awaits still,
While the reasearch proceeds.
Awaiting, and awaiting, forth,
The blooming of his seeds.

With dust moving around himself,
As just the only friend,
The hope is great, for the succes,
Before his weary end.

And the conclusion awaits still,
But Death awaits for none.
He took his gem, his life, his work,
And now, they're all gone.

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