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From the haunted paths that stood in front,
From the ideology of the soul to never give up but to hunt,
Those fears which tried to overpower my will,
And those nights which forgot my blissful skill,
To jot down blood in form of words in a poem I wrote,
To the thoughts which I controlled in the sky where ideas float,
From the ashes of mine I will come back every time,
So that the mortality of immortality witness this in sublime!