An ethereal substance of intangible dust like this.
It's a clogging of the heart to the soft palette,
Caused not by a real something.
It's so there that it can be nothing but there,
But yet there is nothing there in reality.
It is a memory stuck in my throat,
A message in a bottle locked away,
With a sacred master key for my body,
That you will keep with you since I once gave it to you.
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