cipher

It seems sometimes as though I live in twilight.

I hung on that windy tree for nine nights wounded by my own spear.
I hung to that tree, and no one knows where it is rooted.
None gave me food. None gave me drink. Into the abyss I stared
until I spied the runes. I seized them up, and, howling, fell.

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Silence keeps trying to mean an answer.

I am cipher's complete lack of surprise.