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The claws of I are the ones they fear or love.
The break in our bind is the mistake of our kind.
Once populous, remained populous, soon fell to rot. My location best remembered by us. My legacy was left to sought. Reborn and reunify, renovation... we rejuvenate me to argued two.
The meta will soon die... Just wait and they will eventually reincarnate into a necessity that everyone eventually uses.
There was tranquility, yet it had the culmination of a flaw.
A person's testament to divine an exodus of pure dedication and the ramblings of themselves.
A coat fades away as another coat steals its position.
A relationship so complex, one fell in love with each unique deformity created by themselves.
Appealing at first glance, deep inside are the remains of a sin.
I may be ancientexperienced, but a part of me becomes something unique to decipher.
What do you get if you add 3 five times to 300?
Life is plentiful here, but destroying even one piece affects us all; we can see it, hear it, and speak it.
The claws of I are the ones they fear or love.