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I know it to be false
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The joy it gives
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I know it to be true
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Threat of immeasurable pain
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I curse the Amarr
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Inventors of suffering
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I lay praise to my Holder
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Dispenser of my relief
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I pay through service
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An atrocity against my own kindred
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I earn no forgiveness
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I am sustained but cannot prevail
Your entry has been accepted under Poetry Thank you! If you feel it should be classified differently, let me know.
As a reminder, for others, the deadline remains May 15th!
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