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    I whispered your name to a rose in my garden
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    Today I saw man

    “No man nor god can understand this wretch. Tormented by himself, tortured by others. He walks the forsaken desert, through falling tears. He is nothing yet everything. how could they know, how could they understand his pain his empty. No tears fall yet the void deepens. On his knees before everyone no shame, no dignity, but none of that mattered, for he was already dead.

    Someday I might be that man.”
    __

    “I watched a spider crawl and creep. It crept on to my arm, and with a distasteful jump it bites me. Seeping its evil into me. Observing the wound reject the venom, my own flesh became red and hard. Yet the only evidence of its attack was two tiny dots of blood, but the evil made me sick from the inside.

    Such deadly stealth and violating ecstasy enveloped me.”
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    “The next day was just a day
    Not bright
    Not gloomy
    Not dark
    Not calm
    Just a day unlike the rest
    But the same none the less”
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    “I watched the day turn in to night. I watched sundown, but when the orange sky was gone, all that was left was the pale moonlight. In that soft embrace I discovered the wicked creature, the very same creature that had infected me. Though a thought of revenge seemed appealing, a somewhat mystical beauty appeared. The wicked was weaving its web. Those soft strands of silk glistened. Its entrancing beauty was unrivaled.
    A masterpiece just a maze of death and as I watched this ancient art foretell another’s death. I couldn’t help feeling enchanted.

    The wicked will shown through pale moonlight put to rest revenge.”
    __

    “A drop of water falls in to my glass, then a drop of wine. First sweet, but grows bitter overtime. The drop’s ripples go on and on, affecting the present, determining the future, but adding another demon to the past. Drop after drop falls in to my glass, my glass never growing full. But when that black drop comes, the poison rippling in my glass, it shall be full. And I shall drink, drink it all, consuming the poison. Leaving nothing, nothing but the glass, only the glass waiting for the next man to fill and drink.

    But for now my glass is yet to be filled.”
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    That rose, blushed bright red
    ***