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These feet upon my crumbled ground
defy me as I'm gazing down, around
from where I've come
in the innocence of my golden winter
I climbed within the broken frame
of fortune corrupting shame, the name
by which I've stood
in the loneliness of my chamber
He waited for my tempered passing
my personal assassin, unlasting
my own dark choice
as I've opted for this displeasure
And now I cast this gilded tongue
within the formulaic sun, I'm done
when I've conceived
the wisdom of my distemper
Until this artifact of life
eliminates the strife, once rife
and upon my lips
thus paints what I remember
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