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This Mourning
The coldest ill
A thrill to seek
One night to kill
Such spite to speak
My fields to run
A sun to stare
A life begun
My strife to share
This mourn, what waste
A taste, so queer
My vain is faced
I feign my fear
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Favorite Quote:
"Beware, so that his shadow cannot burden your sleep with horrible nightmares." - Nosferatu, 1922