The gate of procession.
My last stand in this swept of in breath.
A God for call.
Now not man or land.
In a justice.
My flesh to my bones.
A blood as its been seeped to this stance.
The gate as it was, as it will once more.
If it is in a plead.
The gates of reaper is seeped.
Once a god.
Once a Land.
For when my bones have fleshed.
A breath could have been swept.
The gates held their stance.
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