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Remember me, library



There are revolving doors.
There are marble floors.
There are busy people reading quiet tomes of times no more.


The woman at the desk asks me if I need anything.
I tell her that even one so studied as she can't help me find what I want.
Here in this silent hall, only the dead call out to me.

The windowless walls that keep me here rot, yet I cannot break them down.
I remain until I have what I seek, what I sought, what I seemed to have
Come here for, but what was it?

The dust is getting to me now I've been here forever the endless halls and pages taunt me they trick me I revisit them though I've done so many times before I've been bound to their bindings I am unable to leave them unattended and alone for when they are alone I am not and the guilt of it all is killing me. I'd rather die alone than they. Remember me, library.

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