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Dust
This is not my heart. It's a cracked stone placed upon the pillar of my chest.
It has failed me, lied and turned my eyes toward such regrettable sights I hold in memory. Cherished, hated , poisonous memory. Id burn myself upon a stake and let the birds remove the ash. Worthless is the way of my departing just as I was in my arrival, nothing but dust under foot of the smallest of creatures, those more valued than I.
