Let me tell you a story
Of a meticulous little brat
Who would often worry
Of the heavens at heart
Before long his mind dragged him
Down the dark hole of utmost deceit…
Wrong? Overconfident? Proud? And Reckless?
Spells were cast…
To drag him back to scene
Eventually, time succeeded…
But…
He had been gone for way too long
His hands had become claws
His teethes had become fangs
His skin wore a tan unknown to man
It was verily too late
For he had long lost it all…
But I write this tale for his final moments…
As he was scorned
And forced to return
Beneath his grimace, his eyes gleamed
Not with tears but with pity
As if deep down in that hole
He had found a home…
Much much greater than all we know
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