The gates of hell are open night and day; smooth the descent, and easy is the way , aslender fading silhouette plummets astray down that dreadful heartless holy hollow; that bygone hour of splendour now gives way to insidious tumours multiplying sorrow.
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Shrinking in shambles as I dive into the fray of that malignant ill-reminisced morrow; sneakily spreading day-by-day, dwelling in this soon-to-be food for flies, for to return, and view the cheerful skies, in this the task and mighty labour lies.
