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Shadows dance along the walls, memories incarnate. Voices call your name from down the hall as clocks echo through fate ringing in a date, with the grim reaper. Tales of hell are sribbled in blood, across winter lips that hush your angels laughter. A life is whithered and burned like filmstrips by an outraged director trapped in your dying mind. Scenes slowly come to a halt and eyes cease to see the soul staring back from this war torn face. REWIND.
