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historical vellums scream the tales of the great ruins that lay buried till day
we believed peace to be the end product of conflict,
chaos ─ the first step toward stability
kill or get killed, no war treaties
kingdoms expired as a result of such crudities
man seized the power, labeling it with harmony
forever enslaved to the vicious games of tyranny
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Throes of Spring ✔️
Poetry[FEATURED] godhood is just like girlhood: a begging to be believed
