Caelith pulsed in the starless seam,
No warmth, just orbit, cold with gleam.
“Equality is just a myth,” it sighed,
“And safety, merely a dreamleaf dried.
A lull to cradle wilt and thrall,
For leaves too tender yet to let fall.”
Then Lily laughed, a sound half-sung,
Like petals bruised but newly sprung.
"If truth decays in myths you spin,
We’ll plant our wound...
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