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I feel like dedicating myself,
Embracing anger and indignance upon sudden doubt from others,
Spilling the blood of children, women, and innocents;
I feel like depriving myself.
Willingly accepting ignorance,
Leading my life reasonably,
Peppering in exceptions here and there,
Knowing I don’t hear or care
For the woes and despairs of those around me.

They never believed, anyway.

I feel like giving up things that allow me to connect to the ones I love, because it “makes me a better person”–
Giving up on what I love,
Because it “makes me a better person”.
I feel like throwing away money,
And refusing to believe that simple decency towards
One’s fellow man
Is grounds for reward.
I feel like denying equals equal rights, in the name of
Something they don’t believe in.

All hail!

Besides,
They don’t know what’s best for them
No one does.

I feel like being a hypocrite.
Providing fanfare for what’s written
But only where it’s convenient.

I feel like being betraying someone.
I feel like spitting in the faces of all those who live a seperate life from mine.
I feel like erecting a wall of hope, and,
Upon instilling promise and
Trust and admiration
In the eyes of those I seek to inspire,
I’ll tear it down.
I’ll demolish it, lay waste to it
Eat it and pass it,
Burn it on a thousand funeral pyres,
And grind it to the ground
As if it, and all the people, were nothing.

And they were.
They meant nothing to me.

Let us pray for those who have fallen…

Nothing.

This is my world,
This is my world;
You are the fallen;
You have the broken hands.
This is my world,
But I can’t understand
Why my footprints won’t seem to
Stay put in the sand.

I’m not afraid,
I swear.

I can’t be.

But perhaps
This isn’t the way.
Perhaps I need change to stay.

In nomine patris, et fili…

Perhaps…

et spiritus…

Could I be wrong?

…sancti.

No.
Nothing.
They meant nothing.

Farewell, my friend, I wish well to thee.
Though I do not expect the same from you to me.

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