So it is etched with a knife of iron
Written with the point of a diamond
Graven upon the table of your heart
That the truth is ugly so you put your poets in jail
I hide in secret places that they shall not see me
I search heaven and earth yet they deceive me
From the vantage of vanity
From dust to disarray to dust infinity
Mirrors won’t freeze the lines on my hand
I trace and erase my face in the sand -Nausher

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