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Inner Turmoil
A dagger of the mind
Harbingers of blood and death
Shake thy gory locks at me
Who dares do more, is none
He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valour
Glamis hath murder'd sleep
Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak
Charm the air to give sound
False face must hide what false heart doth know
Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold
a good and virtuous nature may recoil
To heaven, or to hell
My voice is in my sword
full of scorpions is my mind
our tears are not yet brew'd
bloody, bold, and resolute