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Hallow Fame
What is popularity but a mere scream,
A fleeting whisper of a half-formed dream?
In crowded halls where specters weave,
It calls like a siren, then bids you leave.
Like flowers that bloom in a funeral's...
A fleeting whisper of a half-formed dream?
In crowded halls where specters weave,
It calls like a siren, then bids you leave.
Like flowers that bloom in a funeral's...
