Most people read this, and think I was in a sad place when I wrote it. I wasn’t. I was in a very angry place, but even when I’m not angry I find these words to ring true, fore, everyone is dead. Maybe not physically, but mentally and spiritually.
I shall cry no more for the ignorance of the flesh
If it wishes to stew in a kettle of fat
Let it!
Until all that is left of it is death
Death of the soul, saturated in filth
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