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Click hereLet it rest.
It is not well,
The soul that lies in private hell.
Heard as whispers are the screams
Through the door of nightmarish dreams.
Without love and without joy
As portrayed by Leo Tolstoy
A shadow is a curtain
For isolation that's certain.
No escaping from the grief,
Living in pain without relief.
A house of pain and sorrow
With no light of day tomorrow.