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So there is that in my works.
The trouble is that I still want to tell a different story, the story that comes before that belief in the self… I remember staring out through wild feral eyes at this world (which is not a lot different now) with a burning hatred… a soul of destruction… and the FEAR. Fear is like fire and burns with an intensity that leaves little behind but ashes… fear is a living cremation.
Poetry is a good form for writing that because it is very hard to describe fire and fear in a way that makes sense to those who may not have shared the experience in the same way. Most people learn the art of not being fearful, or more correctly full of fear… some how they managed to open a value and let it out. I wonder what might be different had I learned that. Would I be me? If not, who would I be?
So there is that in my works too.
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