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Ten, night eight, sadly sealed your fate, with that final choice of hate.
Seven, six, five, the Light comes alive. Pity Dark, will not survive.
Four, three, two, no one’s crying for you. Warned many times, it’s true.
In the final time there would ring a chime,
And accounting
Would be
Trued.

* second draft
2/4

Welcome home!


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