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Through the depths of its mind
The man tries to understand itself
Illustrated the way, in the perpetual darkness

Broken the mind chains
Withered is the root
Of the essence of its existence
Wobbles on the thread of sanity
In its putrid madness

Instinctive is its being
Where empty pleasure consumes itself
Guided by its perverse desires
Live or die? The worst of its fears
When the rope tightens its neck
No!
Dying Instinct!

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