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'Sleep'
Sleep, it is a route
But a few are those that know it end.
A preservative detour to-
A remote sanctum.
Escape from contest
For a fleeting hero it is.
Whom's gate is in trance
A vain path to haven brief.
Immortal against mortality-
It is fancied.
Eases the day's turmoil-
On the Calvary it thrusts them.
But against this fancy,
a mere hoodwink of mind it is,
Which the feeble approbate to-
Bury cowardice
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