Ankur Beohar

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I breathe the stale air of demise
It's the stench of death that makes me walk upright
torrid it seems to the humans alone
For beasts and me, this anathema is a state bygone.

I am Maximus, the pursuant of vital life
In the wake of my character is instilled my spirit's pride
Born to kill, I release from it's confinements the soul
It matters little if my job is what the world abhors

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