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Obsidian
September 6, 2009
I am as obsidian is. With no ends, only beginnings. Colored as black as the sky between the stars. I serve no purpose but to absorb the light and reveal the true beauty of nothing. I am sharp, in mind and body, and always am I fighting. Yet, despite this, I am fragile, easily broken down. But no matter how small I get, I remain as a razor, always searching for my other, bathed in red.
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