The first word on an empty page, a page emptied of self-defeat
Is the only word that matters, the only word that all others depend on
Through linkage be your faults
Her name, shrouded atop the white, splattered fog, rains down when all else is through,
Momentarily diminishing its successors
Bold letters cross unto one another and italics written deliberately do stand
Yet the ink shall not drown into obscurity
I see through the etched echoes a page
A cloud of eternal return, a myth covering up true nothingness
that can never be felt
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