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An outdated rule,
So many written by fools.
Once again,
A familiar attempt to suppress.
When power is weakly held,
Those who could claim it,
Are weakened.
Yet, no hand keeps down the spirit,
No chain nor cell.
What we long for,
We shall have.
In the face of desecration,
Flames must rise,
From the ashes of the Absolutarian.
Inspired by the works of Igor Vykhovanets, one of my favorite HP poets.
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— The End —