in the release of madness
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Time has become like the water's of my home Fountain, moving but never changing only for when it evaporates away.
I fear I linger far too long in limbo, my movements My days My life have become nothing more than the inner workings of a Grand old clock.
I wake only for a few hours to feed the bodies needs, then return back to slumber where reality can hide undefined by the laws of truth.
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