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As I approach the barrier of my friend's 
guarded frame, the displeasure of his countenance
haunts me yet again and I am weary
whilst my body sways in hesitance
and the morose uncertainty I cannot contain
yet he counts upon me during this hour
and has not confessed his deviant game
during the course of his leading me
into his darkened parlor, I have no control
over his plan, no manner to deny, unless,
as it is in my nature, would say I 
that this needs cease, however his demeanor,
though the inherent greyest affect, 
is far from the same
this is not my friend, or not anymore
as I stepped upon the bloodied floor
and I saw what he had done, now asking
for my aid, and I must oblige to avoid disdain
if only to be trusted and released
with the intention of help to later seek 
and disclose the crime committed by this friend of mine
yet before I could speak
I myself was struck down and here I lie
in the blood of the other I lie beside
immobilized and pained
plotting to avoid my own demise
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