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Rated: E · Poetry · Psychology · #1234803
just re-edited this, it asks how far one would go for truth.
He speaks from depths that none have seen.
None come this far, the calm serene.

The peace that greets all at the gate,
The want and hope to meet one's fate.

For more than truth has he to gain.
Forsakes his own for victory's pain.

To bear the burden of grim defeat,
Would you think life be near so sweet?

Or dare one man in realms below
Think of death as life's mere foe?

For beyond that rightly simple ruse,
There stands in deep and dank sinews

A greater peace than life could find;
Unlock the mysteries of the mind.

Slowly now, take the reaper's hand,
and step into a better land.

Traipse just once through this abyss.
Fear no wrath; seek only bliss.

One needs look up to hear, he thought,
Of what was ill and what was wrought.

To gather oneself together again
The doer must be only inches from vain.

For prejudice comes as tolerance goes,
Misusing one's mind strikes fatal blows.

Wipes out mankind and lingers not.
Strikes the deed from the boiling pot,

The vat of instances, ne'er do wells
Shall think of love as hatred swells;

Its chamber filled, its torch unmasked,
Glory-spun and beauty-basked.

Do to me as the latter may heed.
Again, to traipse is not misdeed.
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