Your sickness is of your own making. Because we are one I watch over and protect you, silently taking away your own taboo. But that silent service is not what we are. It is my call that calls calls you back to yourself.
Messenger, bird of ill omen, loneliness, harbinger of death, wise counselor, thoughtless hunger. Why not. These thought of me are of no importance. In the hearing of my voice, without thought you hear your own soul. It is then that we can both watch over you.
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