The diddle of the mind is raw as a hoax,
Lures the heart into a world phantasmal,
Binding with the silkiest yet firm chords,
In a tangle that does not easily desist.
Such is the enslavement within the mind,
Like to be locked in a palace of pleasure,
Weighing upon life, the absolute truth,
Held from having meaning with suffer.
But this enslavement is an endurance test,
Different for all and not simple at all,
Forever and ever it seems to remain,
Till does the sword unsheathe sharpen
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