You live in a fantacy World. One created with good intentions, but ultamitly rotted out. It a big game of pretend. Gather together, lie to one another, then cut off anyone who is found to be truthful. you have poisioned the living water with your aipocracy. I can not stand the sight of you. But I am no different. Sure I approach the same decit through a side entrance, but still the mask lies upon my face just as your. I can not stand the sight of me... that is why the mask remains. But undernieth is a festering horde of debaucary and shame, not unlike you. the fact that I know this makes me much worse, for I do it knowingly, but you are this way out of your ignorance. Some grace will abide with you... the oblivious. As for me I have no hope, I have no excuse for the way I am. I have embraced this wretchedness willingly, daily even. And this makes me the worst of you all. the King of the demons. the move I make tomoroww was intended since yesterday. five six move ahead I will look back and curse myself for how accurate I played it. this is the trap. the present is false, because I refuse to give it a tangable hold. Always thinging of what comes next and resenting what came before. And yet, I understand what it is I do... but again I am unwilling to address it, to change behaviors. So slowly I rot under the mask. Under the mask that lies under the other masks. Stacked upon on another like a putrid pillar of rotting shells. the stench fills me with hate, with... a hunger to hate. To pull someone down with me. To make them see what I have knows all along, so that they too may suffer what has befallen me. I yearn for a brother in misery, in the hopes that he would become more putrid than I. that I may pass my crown as King demon to him, and fells the weightless ness of my own mind.