I write this knowing true fate for all eternity, that not we belong to a small speck of dust, & in return for life we give death. In spite of the tears I must open my eyes not for the cuase of irony, but to behold the features of this speck of dust. On it lies the blood of it's people, spattered across it's seemingly endless waters & earth. & for what? For a cuase that's rally a paradox, & will never exist. To some it really doesn't matter, even I myself could fall in this, but for the others that still fight for the truth, the battles are always lost but the war will never end. Still we exist and co-exist with other sorts. After all we are on a speck of dust, & destined to be born & die on it. Our lives, a period of time that is forgotten as soon as it is known. In a bink of an eye, I will be dust once again & be forgotten. For there is no present, & as soon as it is, it is gone. The way it has been since time. But as long as I can capture the thoughts of others in my time, I will not rest until "True peace of mind". And even then I will remember.
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