(Please Read In Caption)

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Walls covered with a carpet, of diseased green moss, sheen pilfered by ruthless time, now barely stand as immaterial sentinels; guarding a world, ignorant of their former glory.

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Be the Sentinel of your thoughts !

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The need of the many outways the need of a few

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I glare upon you,
like the lonely moon.
I stand sentinal, the darkness won't
hit you any soon.

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