"People are peculiar creatures. All their actions are driven by desire, their characters forged by pain. As much as they try to suppress the pain, to repress desire, they cannot libarate themselves from eternal servitude to their feelings. As long as the storm rages within them they can find no peace. Not in life, not in death. And so, day after day, they will do all that must be done. Pain is their ship, desire their compass."
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Answer: Really amazing poem
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it's quite true. But sometimes people do find peace in death hopefully
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