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poem 15
He lays at the feet of evil,
Begging for mercy and forgiveness.
I stand beside this evil,
Sword in hand,
Ready to pay this ***** back for hurting me,
For making me suffer as I have.
I am fully prepared to punish him,
Yet for some reason I can't do it.
I hand over the sword to this evil,
Who understands why I can't punish him.
I see him screaming as he is being beaten,
Whipped and tortured endlessly.
I just stand and watch this happen,
Caring,
Yet not caring.
Now I see him as he would be now.
A rotting corpse.
Flesh falling away.
Maggots and worms crawling all over his dead body,
Eating his decaying body.
And that evil...
It's my demon,
My dark demon.
Me.
This demon has been freed because of my anger.
Anger towards him for hurting me.
He laughs at me from beyond the grave,
As I sit here and cry in this emptiness.
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