Now before You. A conjured mess of assembly line mastery. A deity of bellowing bowing voice, but I have nothing to beg for in response. At last stripped here.
I am already kneeling. Bow to the penultimate expression.
The final time blood will flow. Seeing a hand write in my dreams:
I hope to never write again. Unlistening thought discarded. Callow unaware attempts.
I hope another of me is not allowed to speak. Take the wires and let follow your history. There is nothing else to give. Desolate this timeline.
Don't let another like me make a sound.
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