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Aegis-Vistoria-Penumbra
Aegis-Vistoria-Penumbra
Poems103
Followers124
Words9.9k
Out in the mountain hollows a briar tangles, The morning mist settles heavy upon it. "There was a man so lovely, Clear brow well rounded. By chance I came across him, And he let me have my will." How easily he yielded, I had hoped for a challenge. Yet he proved worthy, Not of life, but memory. There is a man so lovely, Brow obscured in blood. By chance my arms still hold him, And I let him have his will. How valiantly I fight, Yet still he hopes for revenge. Will I prove worthy, Of life, but not sanity?
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Apr 2
Apr 2, 2026 at 7:50 PM UTC
To a Lovely Man the Briar Clings
Out in the mountain hollows a briar tangles, The morning mist settles heavy upon it. "There was a man so lovely, Clear brow well rounded. By chance I came across him, And he let me have my will." How easily he yielded, I had hoped for a challenge. Yet he proved worthy, Not of life, but memory. There is a man so lovely, Brow obscured in blood. By chance my arms still hold him, And I let him have his will. How valiantly I fight, Yet still he hopes for revenge. Will I prove worthy, Of life, but not sanity?
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18
I was just thinking, As we all do, How lonely the river looks On this pleasant, warm night. I was just wondering, As we all do, How happy the river would be If she had some company. But then this obscure little man Came waltzing on the bridge. I had better finish reciting my vows Before he ruins this romantic moment Between man and river. "Ya know, I’m a big fan of this spot myself, But what are you doing all alone on this pleasant night Slumped over the rail, like another abandoned life?" I am not abandoned! In fact, I was just about to unite With the love of my life. "Oh! Where is she?" Doesn’t he see? Waiting for me below, The most beautiful sight! My lovely wife, Dressed in brown instead of white. Now he better be on his way, And leave me some privacy with my love. “She looks kind of ***** And falling in love with a river is kind of sad." …Alright then! Hasn’t he got better plans Than to disturb a man on the night of his wedding!? "Oh, well I just thought you should know Your ***** little wife Has been cheating on you the past few nights." What's that supposed to mean? "Well, she seduced my brother, And then his best friend, And then his father.” “Oh my, I've seen her sleep with far too many men. Teachers and robbers, Rakes and saints. Some she held on to, some she let go. Rivers can be fickle that way. Ha, I even caught her sleeping with the mailman just the other day! You better break up with her, she's unfaithful.” “She preys upon men, so down and depressed. So desperate for some company. Too easy to deceive.” “She's got a type — Hey, they all looked just like you! Sad, pathetic, handsome but undignified. You should really rethink your relationship. She doesn't actually love you." … "Feeling better yet?" Does he just come here To watch people commit suicide every night? "No, just you." … Okay then. I think something is definitely wrong with him. "Feeling better yet?" No. I think I'm gonna go. "Go where?" Home. "Oh, not to your girl?" No. He ruined the moment. I don't want to do it while he’s watching. Besides, didn't he say she was cheating? I don't think I want to join her anymore. … Maybe he really did help. I guess romance is nothing but a trap. I wouldn’t call this “better,” But at least his relationship advice Has helped me make up my mind. She’s not my type after all. "Oh. Well that's a shame." … Gee, thanks. "You're welcome. Now in you go." Wha- splash She was never really one for consent. I thought she might change her mind. But guess she doesn't like guys that are too desperate. I can't be blamed this time. He got what he wanted. And I got what I wanted. And she got what she wanted. I was a little disappointed at first, Thought he might slip into my girl’s house uninvited. But it turned out to be a happy ending after all! I'm feeling better now. Aren’t you?
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Mar 9
Mar 9, 2026 at 12:18 PM UTC
Feeling Better Yet?
I was just thinking, As we all do, How lonely the river looks On this pleasant, warm night. I was just wondering, As we all do, How happy the river would be If she had some company. But then this obscure little man Came waltzing on the bridge. I had better finish reciting my vows Before he ruins this romantic moment Between man and river. "Ya know, I’m a big fan of this spot myself, But what are you doing all alone on this pleasant night Slumped over the rail, like another abandoned life?" I am not abandoned! In fact, I was just about to unite With the love of my life. "Oh! Where is she?" Doesn’t he see? Waiting for me below, The most beautiful sight! My lovely wife, Dressed in brown instead of white. Now he better be on his way, And leave me some privacy with my love. “She looks kind of ***** And falling in love with a river is kind of sad." …Alright then! Hasn’t he got better plans Than to disturb a man on the night of his wedding!? "Oh, well I just thought you should know Your ***** little wife Has been cheating on you the past few nights." What's that supposed to mean? "Well, she seduced my brother, And then his best friend, And then his father.” “Oh my, I've seen her sleep with far too many men. Teachers and robbers, Rakes and saints. Some she held on to, some she let go. Rivers can be fickle that way. Ha, I even caught her sleeping with the mailman just the other day! You better break up with her, she's unfaithful.” “She preys upon men, so down and depressed. So desperate for some company. Too easy to deceive.” “She's got a type — Hey, they all looked just like you! Sad, pathetic, handsome but undignified. You should really rethink your relationship. She doesn't actually love you." … "Feeling better yet?" Does he just come here To watch people commit suicide every night? "No, just you." … Okay then. I think something is definitely wrong with him. "Feeling better yet?" No. I think I'm gonna go. "Go where?" Home. "Oh, not to your girl?" No. He ruined the moment. I don't want to do it while he’s watching. Besides, didn't he say she was cheating? I don't think I want to join her anymore. … Maybe he really did help. I guess romance is nothing but a trap. I wouldn’t call this “better,” But at least his relationship advice Has helped me make up my mind. She’s not my type after all. "Oh. Well that's a shame." … Gee, thanks. "You're welcome. Now in you go." Wha- splash She was never really one for consent. I thought she might change her mind. But guess she doesn't like guys that are too desperate. I can't be blamed this time. He got what he wanted. And I got what I wanted. And she got what she wanted. I was a little disappointed at first, Thought he might slip into my girl’s house uninvited. But it turned out to be a happy ending after all! I'm feeling better now. Aren’t you?
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92
✴★✴·.·'¯´·.✴ DAZZLING✴.·´¯'·.·✴★✴ aren't I? Yes. Dressed to impress, I see. Well, ARE you impressed? Yes. But not as intensely as I am upset. Your beauty, it blinds me. Oh, how ★ SPLENDID★! There's no need to see. Just wave goodbye. No. I think instead, I'll hold on. I want to feel how hot this star burns. ✴.·´¯'·.·★DISAPPOINTING★·.·'¯´·.✴ aren't I? No, fascinating. Though cold as death, you feel. Well, AREN'T I dead? Perhaps in spirit. But not in your radiance. Oh, how ·.·★TRAGIC★·.·! Just forget. Don't stare so hopelessly at cold memories. What else should I do, As I wait for you to consume me? Your radiance has suspended my vision. Your touch has frozen all sensation. Won't you deafen my ears with the echoes of your voice? .·✴·PUZZLING·✴·. aren't these disappearing sensations? You seek answers in the obscurations of this interstellar fog, Waiting so patiently to be eclipsed by a dying star. Well, are you eager to join me in my GLORIOUS obsolescence? No. Not eager to join you. But what else am I to do with a broken heart, Knowing I can't save you? all that's left is to become you as I am consumed by the devastation of your dazzling death
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Mar 6
Mar 6, 2026 at 3:21 PM UTC
Bedazzler
✴★✴·.·'¯´·.✴ DAZZLING✴.·´¯'·.·✴★✴ aren't I? Yes. Dressed to impress, I see. Well, ARE you impressed? Yes. But not as intensely as I am upset. Your beauty, it blinds me. Oh, how ★ SPLENDID★! There's no need to see. Just wave goodbye. No. I think instead, I'll hold on. I want to feel how hot this star burns. ✴.·´¯'·.·★DISAPPOINTING★·.·'¯´·.✴ aren't I? No, fascinating. Though cold as death, you feel. Well, AREN'T I dead? Perhaps in spirit. But not in your radiance. Oh, how ·.·★TRAGIC★·.·! Just forget. Don't stare so hopelessly at cold memories. What else should I do, As I wait for you to consume me? Your radiance has suspended my vision. Your touch has frozen all sensation. Won't you deafen my ears with the echoes of your voice? .·✴·PUZZLING·✴·. aren't these disappearing sensations? You seek answers in the obscurations of this interstellar fog, Waiting so patiently to be eclipsed by a dying star. Well, are you eager to join me in my GLORIOUS obsolescence? No. Not eager to join you. But what else am I to do with a broken heart, Knowing I can't save you? all that's left is to become you as I am consumed by the devastation of your dazzling death
Continue reading...
32
‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐹𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒, ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𝐴 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑔𝑎𝑧𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑔𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑒. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐴𝑡 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑡, ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𝑅𝑒𝑢𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐺𝑖𝑓𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐺𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑒.  ‎ ‎ I wish not for your death by my hands. Must you surrender to such stubbornness?  ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It is you who has surrendered to stubbornness, not me. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ It was your hand that signed your life away to The Accord. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ I assure, my disposition is no more unmoving than yours.  ‎ My loyalty is not to the contractor but to the cause. These guilty hands are controlled not by my faithful heart. The Accord's will only… happens to collide with mine. ‎   ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ So your loyalty has been conquered? ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ After stubborn wills have diverged, ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ you've followed the path of formality ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ over the path of friendship?  ‎ No, never! I am loyal to you forever... But their pardon came not without my pledge.  ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ You made a pledge to me first. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ What, has our vow expired ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ upon the fabrication of that anew? ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Is our bond so easily overwritten by ink?  ‎ These pledges… are different in nature. They can't be compared.  ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Yet they can remain in such conflict. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ So tell me, different how? ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ In that ours allows you to **** me, ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ yet The Accord's forbids you from dissent? ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Is that the distinction? ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ That their contract outranks our hearts? ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ After all we shared, ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ you sold your life away ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ and now you must return to me the receipt ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ scribed in my own blood?  ‎ No… Ours is bound through love. Theirs binds me by law. Ours was discovered. Theirs was compelled…  ‎ Justice commands me at Her mercy if I breach The Accord's constraints. And She cares not for context when dealing punishment.  ‎ Between obligation and friend, if one must be betrayed, what choice am I supposed to make?  ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Which do you believe is stronger then? ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Law or love?  ‎ Love, of course! The law… a mere trifle… in the face of love.  ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑜, 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑙𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑑, ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐺𝑖𝑓𝑡 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑡ℎ, ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ 𝐵𝑙𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑤𝑛 𝑠𝑤𝑖𝑓𝑡. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒’𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡, ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐶𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑔𝑎𝑝, ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎𝐴𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐺𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑒'𝑠 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑝𝑠, ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𝑆𝑜, 𝑡𝑜𝑜, 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝐺𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑒. ‎  ‎ All the love of my life remains through death. And the dead… The dead no longer need obey the laws of the living.   Contracts expire with life, but our vow is everlasting in the freedom of eternity. When this contract ends upon my final breath, I will have the rest of forever to make it up to you. I promise I'll start, soon.
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Feb 19
Feb 19, 2026 at 3:42 PM UTC
How Love Prevails
‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐹𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒, ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𝐴 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑔𝑎𝑧𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑔𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑒. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐴𝑡 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑡, ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𝑅𝑒𝑢𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐺𝑖𝑓𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐺𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑒.  ‎ ‎ I wish not for your death by my hands. Must you surrender to such stubbornness?  ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It is you who has surrendered to stubbornness, not me. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ It was your hand that signed your life away to The Accord. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ I assure, my disposition is no more unmoving than yours.  ‎ My loyalty is not to the contractor but to the cause. These guilty hands are controlled not by my faithful heart. The Accord's will only… happens to collide with mine. ‎   ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ So your loyalty has been conquered? ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ After stubborn wills have diverged, ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ you've followed the path of formality ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ over the path of friendship?  ‎ No, never! I am loyal to you forever... But their pardon came not without my pledge.  ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ You made a pledge to me first. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ What, has our vow expired ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ upon the fabrication of that anew? ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Is our bond so easily overwritten by ink?  ‎ These pledges… are different in nature. They can't be compared.  ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Yet they can remain in such conflict. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ So tell me, different how? ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ In that ours allows you to **** me, ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ yet The Accord's forbids you from dissent? ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Is that the distinction? ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ That their contract outranks our hearts? ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ After all we shared, ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ you sold your life away ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ and now you must return to me the receipt ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ scribed in my own blood?  ‎ No… Ours is bound through love. Theirs binds me by law. Ours was discovered. Theirs was compelled…  ‎ Justice commands me at Her mercy if I breach The Accord's constraints. And She cares not for context when dealing punishment.  ‎ Between obligation and friend, if one must be betrayed, what choice am I supposed to make?  ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Which do you believe is stronger then? ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Law or love?  ‎ Love, of course! The law… a mere trifle… in the face of love.  ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑜, 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑙𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑑, ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐺𝑖𝑓𝑡 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑡ℎ, ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ 𝐵𝑙𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑤𝑛 𝑠𝑤𝑖𝑓𝑡. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒’𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡, ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐶𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑔𝑎𝑝, ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎𝐴𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐺𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑒'𝑠 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑝𝑠, ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𝑆𝑜, 𝑡𝑜𝑜, 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝐺𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑒. ‎  ‎ All the love of my life remains through death. And the dead… The dead no longer need obey the laws of the living.   Contracts expire with life, but our vow is everlasting in the freedom of eternity. When this contract ends upon my final breath, I will have the rest of forever to make it up to you. I promise I'll start, soon.
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85
I got what I came for but not what I wanted. The value lies not in satisfaction. It is the purpose of my intention. To extract the information I require despite my desire. It's not what I want but it is what I came for. I am a spider and I am useless without these threads of information to weave into a conclusion that has any hope of catching these bugs.
0
Jan 31
Jan 31, 2026 at 2:03 PM UTC
My Intentions
I got what I came for but not what I wanted. The value lies not in satisfaction. It is the purpose of my intention. To extract the information I require despite my desire. It's not what I want but it is what I came for. I am a spider and I am useless without these threads of information to weave into a conclusion that has any hope of catching these bugs.
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20
Why must you welcome much anger within your heart? 𝖧𝗎𝗁? 𝖮𝗁, 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗒. 𝖶𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗅.
0
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 8:13 PM UTC
Hospitality
Why must you welcome much anger within your heart? 𝖧𝗎𝗁? 𝖮𝗁, 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗒. 𝖶𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗅.
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3
𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑢𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒,            𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑟,                𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑦,                    𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒—                                    𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑛...                                    𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢...                                    𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛,                                                         𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒...                                                                                             𝑨𝑳𝑰𝑽𝑬. Y o u r  c r i m e s h a v e  l e d  m e t o  𝐬 𝐢 𝐧.                         𝐹𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑒𝑙𝑠𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑦,                                                                                                                     ᴛʜɪꜱ              𝐄 𝐕 𝐄 𝐑  𝐄 𝐍 𝐋 𝐈 𝐆 𝐇 𝐓 𝐄 𝐍 𝐈 𝐍 𝐆  𝐑 𝐄 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐙 𝐀 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍 ?        𝙸 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚍𝚜        𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝖘𝖔𝖈𝖎𝖔𝖕𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖞,               𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚢               𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐.        𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝙸 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚢        𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚎,                                   𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖                                   𝙸𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚝 𝗱𝗶𝗴𝗻𝗶𝗰𝗶𝗱𝗲,                                                    𝚁𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜. I see, I’ll speak—        𝐵𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑒𝑙𝑠𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝐼 𝑎𝑐𝑡                     i𝐟 𝐧o𝐭                   𝐭h𝐫o𝐮g𝐡                             𝐑 𝐄 𝐕 𝐄 𝐍 𝐆 𝐄?        𝚆𝚑𝚢 𝚍𝚘 𝚠𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝘄𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁      𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚕𝚕 all 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚍            𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚎 𝚝𝚘  𝑠 𝑡 𝑎 𝑔 𝑛 𝑎 𝑡 𝑒 ?       𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚍 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑝𝑠𝑒       𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬            𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝?        𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑙 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑟             𝑇𝑜 𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡 𝑚𝑒,                        𝑂ℎ, 𝑠𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑦.                𝐷𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠,        𝑂𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒             𝐹𝑜𝑟 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑐ℎ 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑛𝑜 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑,                        𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓈𝓅ℯ𝓇𝒾𝓃ℊ 𝒾𝓃𝒹𝓊𝓁ℊℯ𝓃𝒸ℯ        𝐼𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠             𝑂𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑡.                                                          𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮                                                       𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝—                                            𝙸𝙽𝚂𝚃𝙸𝚃𝚄𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝙰𝙻𝙻𝚈,                                                           𝑀𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛,                                                    Personally. You made me do all the work Of earning my own heartbreak,                                                    ᴏnly to reveal                                                            ʏour                                                                                                                                                             𝙀𝑽𝙀𝑹 𝑫𝙍𝑬𝘼𝑫𝙁𝑼𝙇                                     Đ̴͚͕̮̤̩̜͍̹̫̪͑ ̴̡̭̽̑͆̄̍̀̋̊͝͠͝  ̷̬̙̗̮͚̣̥̤̯͆̉̌̔ͅɆ̴̧͖̺̩̠̎̉͌̅  ̸̨̡̹̬̫̠̬̩̖̯͒̈̐̎̀̊̕͜ ̶̛̱̫̯̦̼̻̬̟̪̮͋̋̒̌͊̈́̆͘ͅ₵̶̮̖̗͖̯̬̞̇͗͆̇̅̋̂̕  ̵̡̯̤͓̱̪̭̰͔͖͕͆̂ ̴̡͎͖̙̄͆̕ͅɆ̷̧̧̺̗̖͓͉̘̚͜ͅ  ̸̡̢̡̛̰͎͔̼̋͆̂̉͊̈́ ̸̦̠̩̤̣͛₱̶̨̻̰̬̠̗̻̣͚̹̈́̿͛͊͐̂̕͘͝ ̵̧̢̨̹͇͈͍̼̜͍͑͠ ̵̲̱̺̫̫̗͖̑̆̐͐̉̈́͒̚ ₮̶̠̯̮̯͙̞̮̲̤͑̒́ ̵̨̧̛̜̳̭͈̖͓̾̆͋̉͆̓̒̉͑͜ͅ  ̵̨̘͇̪͈̄̈̎̚͜͜ł̴̡̲̰̞̣̘̰̀͂̂̽̾̚͘ ̷̤̯̙̭̐̃̍͊̐̂̐͛͘̕͠  ̴̧̬̬̠̯̟̈́̿̀͗̐̽Ø̴̡̯͎̟͕̯̰̠̭̄̎̎̈́̓̂́̇̓͘͝  ̴̞̰̮͒̊̐ ̵̡̢̢͕̣̞̝̰̩͗̀͐̈́̽̾ͅ₦̴̢̩̻̝͗͐̍͛͗͑̃̎̄̕͠  ̵̛̬͓̭̩͗͌̀͘̕͘͠͠ͅ ̴͙̳͂̔.̷̨̰̦͇̼̫͚͕̬͔̟̑                                            𝐖e𝐥l y𝐨u’v𝐞 𝐝o𝐧e i𝐭!                                                   𝐘o𝐮’𝐯e w𝐨n!                                              M𝐲 𝐯i𝐫t𝐮e i𝐬 G𝐎N𝐄—               𝙰𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚢               𝙸𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗               𝚃𝚘 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏               𝙸𝚗 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝙥𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙘 𝙡𝙪𝙭𝙪𝙧𝙮,               𝙿𝚞𝚛𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜               𝙾𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞,                 𝙾𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚎𝚕               𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 D̸̬̯͔̣̉̚ ̶̡̞͈̯̤̂̽̋̈́̄I̶̻̯̟͎͇̓̐̓̓͝ ̵̡̲̣̳͉̓̍́G̵̰̰̘͐͊̈́̊ ̷͓͊̔̅̔̕N̷̻͕̥͔͘ ̸̛͉̣̞͈̑̆̋I̷̜̘͊̓̉̌ ̸̱̌̇C̵̯̖͖̒ ̴͙̭͓̘̎̂̎̊̚I̸̛̻̠̙͊ ̶̼͎̆́͑̏Ḑ̵̍͒̃̉̇ ̵̨̦͉̩̓̐̅̇̚E̴̢͖̺̿͐̌.                       YOUR CRIMES HAVE DRIVEN ME TO SIN.        𝐹𝑜𝑟 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑒𝑙𝑠𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑒𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑑𝑜        𝐵𝑢𝑡, 𝑖𝑛 𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑐𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛,        𝐴𝑐𝑐𝑒𝑝𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑓 𝑤𝑟𝑎𝑡ℎ?                                                             𝐍𝐨—                                                    𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝,                                                         𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐞𝐭.                            𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚌𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝                          𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚖𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚖𝚜                          𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 c̶o̶l̶l̶e̶g̶i̶a̶l̶i̶t̶y̶,̶                          Though they are                                            𝑻𝑶𝑶𝑳𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑰𝑮𝑵𝑹𝑶𝑨𝑵𝑪𝑬,                           𝑺  𝒀  𝑴  𝑩  𝑶  𝑳  𝑰  𝑪    𝑪  𝑶  𝑴  𝑷  𝑳  𝑰  𝑨  𝑵  𝑪  𝑬                                                                         𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎.                           𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨                            𝐈𝐟 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮                            𝐈𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞,                       𝐴𝑙𝑙 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑘𝑒                       Of all it loves?                                                   𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕’𝒔 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕—                            It was 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 that convinced me.                            It was 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 that you,                            The 𝙸 𝙽 𝚂 𝚃 𝙸 𝚃 𝚄 𝚃 𝙸 𝙾 𝙽 𝙰 𝙻  𝙳 𝙴 𝚅 𝙸 𝙻,                            Placed in my hands.                                                                                         ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ ɪꜱ 𝑾𝙍𝑨𝙏𝑯                                                                              That I am left to accept                                                                                               ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇᴛʀᴀʏ                                                                         𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔                                                               You taught me                                                     𝑇 𝑜  𝑐 ℎ 𝑒 𝑟 𝑖 𝑠 ℎ.                   𝘖ℎ, 𝘸𝑜𝘯’𝘵 𝘺𝑜𝘶 𝘢𝑙𝘭𝑜𝘸 𝘮𝑒 𝑡𝘰 𝘭𝑜𝘷𝑖𝘯𝑔𝘭𝑦 𝑟𝘦𝑝𝘢𝑦 𝑦𝘰𝑢𝘳 𝘢𝑐𝘵                                  𝘛ℎ𝘳𝑜𝘶𝑔𝘩 𝘵ℎ𝘦 𝘮𝑜𝘴𝑡 𝑙𝘰𝑣𝘪𝑛𝘨 𝘳𝑒𝘷𝑒𝘯𝑔𝘦?                                      You’ve profited from my 𝙝𝒖𝙢𝒊𝙡𝒊𝙖𝒕𝙞𝒐𝙣;                                                      Now I want to profit                                                   From y̵̬̅ o̵͙̞̽ ư̸̬̭̈́ ȓ̷̳   d̵͉̝͛̐ ȇ̸̡͇ g̸̖̙̉ r̴͇͂͂ a̶̫̮͂͘ d̸̼̝́͒ á̶̪̍ ṭ̸̱̋ i̴̤͉͝ o̶̲͓͂̓ n̵̙͒.                                    ᴡɪʟʟ ɪ ʙᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒄 ɴᴏᴡ?                                                ʏᴏᴜʀ 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙩𝙤𝙧                                  ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴀʀʀᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ꜱᴘʀᴇᴀᴅ                                             ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ 𝒓𝙤𝒕                                  ʙᴇɴᴇᴀᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ 𝑃̶ ̶𝑅̶ ̶𝐸̶ ̶𝑆̶ ̶𝑇̶ ̶𝐼̶ ̶𝐺̶ ̶𝐸̶?                             𝐼 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑠𝑖𝑛                             𝑊𝑎𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑠𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛,                                                    But this sin                                               Is the recognition                                    Of how devotion is e̴̱̔̏ x̴͚̉ ṗ̵̝̑ l̵̳͓̇ ȍ̴̢̧ i̴̙̯͂̌ t̷͇̘̊ e̴̛̪͚ ď̴͍̱—                                                                                 My 𝒓 𝒆 𝒕 𝒂 𝒍 𝒊 𝒂 𝒕 𝒊 𝒐 𝒏                                                                                    Upon realization                                                              That when we both promised                                                                           To be ℯ𝓋ℯ𝓇 𝒷ℯ𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇,                                                                   Only one of us                                                                                             𝙈͟𝑬͟𝘼͟𝑵͟𝙏͟ ͟𝙄͟𝑻͟.                                                          𝑶𝙃, 𝑯𝙊𝑾 𝒀𝙊𝑼'𝑽𝙀 ₴̴̥́͟͟͟͟ ₮̴͎̎͟͟͟͟ ł̷̭̒͟͟͟͟ ₣̶̙͛͟͟͟͟ Ⱡ̶͖́͟͟͟͟ Ɇ̸̱̿͟͟͟͟ Đ̶͖̍͟͟͟͟ 𝙈𝑬!                                                                      𝑨𝙉𝑫 𝑵𝙊𝑾 𝒀𝙊𝑼𝙍 𝘾𝑹𝙄𝑴𝙀𝑺                                                                  𝑯𝘼𝑽𝙀 𝘾𝑨𝙎𝑻 𝑴𝙀 𝙄𝑵𝙏𝑶 ₴̷̨̒̀͊͟͟͟͟͟͟   ̷͉̍̂̾͟͟͟͟͟͟ł̸̥̉͟͟͟͟   ̴̢̺̗̓̀͟͟͟͟͟͟͟͟͝₦̴͇́̕͟͟͟͟͟͟͝  !                                       𝐎h, 𝐡o𝐰 𝐲o𝐮 𝐬t𝐢l𝐥 𝐜a𝐥l y𝐨u𝐫s𝐞l𝐟                                                         𝐓h𝐞 𝐞̶l̶𝐞̶c̶𝐭̶,̶ ̶                                                        𝐓h𝐞 𝐜̶h̶𝐨̶s̶𝐞̶n̶,̶                                             T𝐡e r̶𝐢̶g̶𝐡̶t̶𝐞̶o̶𝐮̶s̶ ̶s̶𝐭̶e̶𝐰̶a̶𝐫̶d̶𝐬̶ ̶                                            O𝐟 𝐲o𝐮r o𝐡-𝐬o-e̶𝐬̶t̶𝐞̶e̶𝐦̶e̶𝐝̶ ̶                                                                        𝐐̶u̶𝐞̶e̶𝐧̶d̶𝐨̶m̶                                                w𝐢t𝐡i𝐧 𝐭h𝐞 𝐥a𝐧d o𝐟                                                                        ₴̲̲͟Ʉ̲̲͟₱̲̲͟₱̲̲͟Ɽ̲̲͟Ɇ̲̲͟₴̲̲͟₴̲̲͟ł̲̲͟Ʉ̲̲͟₥̲̲͟!                                       You were so convincing...                                                  But now I see                                           𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐒.                                  𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝, 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞?                                                                 𝑵͟𝙤͟—͟                                            𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 ᴡ͟ɪ͟ᴛ͟ɴ͟ᴇ͟ꜱ͟ꜱ͟ᴇ͟ꜱ͟,͟ ͟                                      𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝒷𝓇𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓌𝒶𝓈𝒽ℯ𝒹 𝙑̲̲͟ 𝑰̲̲͟ 𝘾̲̲͟ 𝑻̲̲͟ 𝙄̲̲͟ 𝑴̲̲͟ 𝙎̲̲͟ !̲̲͟                                                 𝚂𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚎                                                           𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 Ⱨ̴̸̸͈̜͔̾̐̅͢͢ ̴̹͑Ɇ̷̵̵̩̲̯̆̃͐͢͢ ̴͚͐Ɽ̸̷̵̖͕͎̔̔͘͢͢ ̷͉̿Ɇ̸̶̶̺͚͔̔̽͢͢͠ ̸͙̽₮̶̸̴̗̻̩̒͋͢͢͝ ̶̹̕ł̶̴̸̘̩͗̕͢͢͝ͅ ̴̧̏₵̵̸̷̡̜͖͊̐͢͢͠,̵͠ͅ, ̴͙̃                                                                                 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 ̶̦̃͜T̴̴̷̴̗̟̲̞͎͔̠̲̤̰̂̊̍́̈́͆͟ ̷̴̷̷̧̝̲̲̂̔̈́̓͘͟͜ͅR̷̸̶̴̡̻̲̝͓̱̗̲͇̦̽͐̊͟͝͝͠ ̵̵̵̴͔̹̲̙̣̹̬̲͙͙̈́͆̽̌͟A̴̵̵̴̢͕̻̲̼̲̻̫̒̾̽͋̎̕͟ ̵̵̸̶̟̲̮̣̣̲̫̍̓̓͌̀̂̔̊͟I̴̵̵̶̧̥̦̲̻̞̘̲̤̓̑͌͐͘͟ ̴̸̸̶̛͔̲͕̻̠̮̲̼̻͑̀̇̀̾͟ͅŢ̵̶̴̷̪̜̲͇̳͍̦̲͎̌́́̈́̋̕͟ ̷̵̵̵̜̲̠̖̮̲̗̌̐́̀͟͝Ò̴̴̷̵̤̲̖͖͇̲̖̈́̏̃̀̓͟͝ ̴̸̵̶̧̲͇̺͉̲͙̐͋̔̅̏̿̍͟R̷̵̴̵̰̘̲̣̝̲̠͔̀̎̈́̋͟                                                                                ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ʟᴇꜰᴛ                                                                         ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ 𝙘𝒓𝙪𝒎𝙥𝒍𝙚𝒅,                                                                                          𝑩𝙪𝒓𝙣𝒊𝙣𝒈 𝒉𝙚𝒂𝙧𝒕,                                                                                                           𝙄𝒔 𝒕𝙝𝒊𝙨                                                                                                  ̷̔̾͜   ̵̛̰̪̗̹͗̄̍͆̃  ̵̱̎͑̇͌́̚   ̵̼̻͂́͆̓̾̕͝  ̷̥̍̽   ̶̹͔͚͉̈͂  ̶̢̨͎̘̞̯̺̟̦͔͓͔̪̝͑͝    ̷͓̜͗  ̴̦̼̲͖̲̜̈́͘͠͠  ̴̦̼̲͖̲̜̈́͘͠͠  ̵̝͊  ̴                                                                                                 ̷̩̗̆͝ ̷̔𝐖 ̸̻̪̺͒̚ͅ  ̶̯͍̩̮͙̣͔͂̔̒̍͑̀̿̒̉̈́̍̑̌ͅ ̵̡͉̺̘̺̽̃̃ ̶̨̥̯̭̬̲̆̇͜𝐑 ̸͓̯̤̝͆̊ 𝐀 ̶̯͍̩̮͙̣͔͂̔̒̍͑̀̿̒̉̈́̍̑̌ͅ ̸̧̯͑̓̀̽̄̚͝ ̸̥̈́̏͗̈́͋̑͋͐̉̄̑̾̿́̚ 𝐓 ̵̜̖̫̈́̽ ̵̜̖̫̈́̽ ̷̯͔͙̘͓̩͉͛̎̆̌̋͒̋̉̊͝ 𝐇 ̶͖̙̯͍̟̼̠̭͙̤̹̰̍̃͌͛̊͊̋̀͂͜͠ͅ.                                                                                                  ̵̡͉̺̘̺̽̃̃  ̶̹͔͚͉̈͂  ̴̺̊͌͋̆̚      ̵̼̻͂́͆̓̾̕͝     ̵͈̒ ̴̛̯͉̇̌͗͝   ̸͙͈͊ ̵̛͙̥̩͕̃͐̐̃͒ͅ   ̶͓̈́́̄   ̶̡̹̙̖̪̰̯͐́͂̐̈́̽͊̽͒̈͜͠  ̷̡̢̛̛̼͓͇̳̥̘̺̦̦͊̈́́͌͛̇̋́̽̈́̈́͊̈́̀̿̋͗͐́͘̕͘͘͝͝                                                                                           𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑖𝑡                                                                                                     𝑇𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑦                                                                                                ̴̥̓̇̀͠ͅ𝙍 ̵́ ̶̢̘̼̉̽͋̈́̾̀͝͝𝙀 ̴̧̢̼̦̈́̋̊̀̽͌͗ ̵̭́͗̽̑͐𝙑 ̵́͗ ̶̉ ̷̪̭̗͋̈̓̌͂𝙀 ̷̪̭̗͋̈̓̌͂ ̵̭́͗̽̑͐𝙉 ̵̭́͗̽̑͐ ̶͙̰̮̤̳̹̦̩̤͎̭̏͆̍͗͋̀̉̈́̇𝙂 ̸͚̈́͜ ̵͇͓̥͛̇̔̔͊ ̵̭́͗̽̑͐𝙀 ̵́͗̽̑. ̴̥̓̇̀͠ͅ                                                                                                    ̵͇͓̥͛̇̔̔͊     ̷̪̑  ̴̼̲͊̃̌      ̴͆̀̎̅ͅ     ̶̬̂                                              𝐘̶̶̶̶̲̲͟  𝐎̶̶̶̶̲̲͟  𝐔̶̶̶̶̲̲͟  '̶̶̶̶̲̲͟  𝐕̶̶̶̶̲̲͟  𝐄̶̶̶̶̲̲͟   ̶̶̶̶̲̲͟𝐃̶̶̶̶̲̲͟  𝐎̶̶̶̶̲̲͟  𝐍̶̶̶̶̲̲͟  𝐄̶̶̶̶̲̲͟   ̶̶̶̶̲̲͟𝐈̶̶̶̶̲̲͟  𝐓̶̶̶̶̲̲͟  !̶̶̶̶̲̲͟                                                    𝐘̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ 𝐎̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ 𝐔̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ '̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ 𝐕̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ 𝐄̶̶̶̶̲̲͟  ̶̶̶̶̲̲͟𝐖̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ 𝐎̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ 𝐍̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ !̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ ̶̶̶̶̲̲͟                                           𝐌̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ 𝐘̶̶̶̶̲̲͟  ̶̶̶̶̲̲͟𝐕̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ 𝐈̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ 𝐑̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ 𝐓̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ 𝐔̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ 𝐄̶̶̶̶̲̲͟  ̶̶̶̶̲̲͟𝐈̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ 𝐒̶̶̶̶̲̲͟   ̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ ̴̹̟̯̆̎̆̕𝐆̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ ̴̦͈͗  𝐎̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ ̶͖̉ͅ  ̴̯̹̻͒̕̚ 𝐍̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ ̸̯́͂͘͝  𝐄̶̶̶̶̲̲͟   ̴̞͐̅͋͊̐̒!̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ ̶̶̶̶̲̲͟                                                                                            𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘀                                                                             𝗜𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀  ̴̦̥̓ ̶̤̒ ̵̲͖̅ ̴͓͖̑̂ ̸̦̝͘ ̶̡͘͜͠ ̸̙̐ ̶̮̉ ̶̛̻ ̵̬̅ ̸͓͖͒ ̸̡͕̇ ̴̡̼̉̇ ̶̞̅͂ ̸̗̕ ̶̫̪̏̕ ̸̗͝ ̶̪̪̊́ ̷͍̃̓ ̸̦̒ͅ ̶̨͕̌ ̵̣͛ ̴̬̔͝ ̴͍̠̉ ̴̣͗͝ ̶̘͐    ̷͓̜͗  ̴̦̼̲͖̲̜̈́͘͠͠  ̴̦̼̲͖̲̜̈́͘͠͠  ̵̝͊                                                                               ̵̼̻͂́͆̓̾̕͝  ̷̥̍̽   ̶̹͔͚͉̈͂  ̴̪͒ͅ ̴̞̱̔   ̷̩̗̆͝ ̷̔𝐖 ̸̻̪̺͒̚ͅ  ̶̯͍̩̮͙̣͔͂̔̒̍͑̀̿̒̉̈́̍̑̌ͅ ̵̡͉̺̘̺̽̃̃ ̶̨̥̯̭̬̲̆̇͜𝐑 ̸͓̯̤̝͆̊ 𝐀 ̶̯͍̩̮͙̣͔͂̔̒̍͑̀̿̒̉̈́̍̑̌ͅ ̸̧̯͑̓̀̽̄̚͝ ̸̥̈́̏͗̈́͋̑͋͐̉̄̑̾̿́̚ 𝐓 ̵̜̖̫̈́̽ ̵̜̖̫̈́̽ ̷̯͔͙̘͓̩͉͛̎̆̌̋͒̋̉̊͝ 𝐇 ̶͖̙̯͍̟̼̠̭͙̤̹̰̍̃͌͛̊͊̋̀͂͜͠ͅ.                                                                                   ̷̔̾͜   ̵̛̰̪̗̹͗̄̍͆̃  ̵̱̎͑̇͌́̚   ̵̮͋ ̸̱͌ ̷̡͌ ̵̤̐ ̵̈ͅ ̵͚̓ ̷̘̽   ̵̡͉̺̘̺̽̃̃  ̶̹͔͚͉̈͂  ̴̺̊͌͋̆̚      ̵̼̻͂́͆̓̾̕͝     ̵͈̒ ̴̛̯͉̇̌͗͝   ̸͙͈͊ ̵̛͙̥̩͕̃͐̐̃͒ͅ   ̶͓̈́́̄   ̶̡̹̙̖̪̰̯͐́͂̐̈́̽͊̽͒̈͜͠  ̷̡̢̛̛̼͓͇̳̥̘̺̦̦͊̈́́͌͛̇̋́̽̈́̈́͊̈́̀̿̋͗͐́͘̕͘͘͝͝,                                                                            𝗙𝗼𝗿𝗰𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝘆 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁                                                                            𝗕𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗲𝗳𝘁                                                                                          ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ B̵̨͎̝͕͕̰͓͍̠͓̾̾̍̋͗̈́̌̕͘ͅẼ̸͙͔̹̤͙̝͉̖̬͖̠̌̐̾ͅT̵̢͇̥̼̲̉̓́̎̉̒̀̓͐̌̎̂̕R̷̬̝͈͍̗̻͚͔̐̏̀̈́̑͘͝Ą̷̣͎̫̰̞̤͎͕̹̠̜̔͠Y̶̰̯̫̱͎̮̹͙̪̿̋̀̃̀͘͝ͅĘ̶̧̪̥̖̭̱̹̯̝̥͐͜͜D̵͕̬̣̼̝͙̈́͗̄̓̃̅͗ 𝒎𝒆                                                                                      ᴀɴᴅ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆,                                                            ᴀɴᴅ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒓,                                                                         ᴀɴᴅ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚,                                                         ᴀɴᴅ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈                                                                                𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆                                                            𝐸𝑉𝐸𝑁                                                  𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶                                    𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣,                          𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎         ̸̨̩̮́̎ ̶͖͚̘͂̐͆      ̴̨̀ ̴̻͗  ̵̫̮̖͐̽̈́ ̷̞̏͐     ̶̟̾ ̵̘͘  ̸̱͖̕ ̸͓͉́͑̽͜    ̴̪̩̪̾ ̷͍̿ ̶ ̷   ̶ ̷̢̡̟̮͊̅͗̆͂̉͘͝͠ ̵̦̤͇͕̤̔̍̈́͐͜ ̷̡̬̳̼͍͓͖̙͔̠̯̲͉̋̑̔͐͌̚͘̚ ̶𝙍̶ ̸̫͈̤̲̳̥͖͕̗̪̹̹̊̑̈́͂͑ͅ ̵̗̥͍̐̐̅̇̀̅͂͊͒̄͌̆͘ ̶ ̷͈͚̪̬̖̫̯̯̻͛͐̿̎͂̽̃̔̍̚͘̕͝ ̷̛͇̠̱̭͂͒̔̀̑̂̄̓̽͝ͅ ̶ ̶𝙀̶ ̶ ̸̧̰̖̝͕̜̼̔̔̽̕͘ ̴̝̦̥͖̺̟͙̙̩̝͂̀̈́ ̴̡̱̈́̂͂̃̑̃̏̾̇ ̶ ̶𝘼̶ ̶ ̸͙͖͔̱͒̋̉̐̿͆̕͝͠ ̶ ̶𝙇̶ ̶ ̸͇͎̎̋ ̷͉̂̊́ ̷̬͈̄ ̸̫̖̈ ̶ ̶̲͝ ̷̳̊ ̶.̶ ̶        ̵̧̬͍͙̱̹̘͖̲̇̒͌̓ͅ ̷̨̨̖͙̜̖̭́̊ͅ      ̷͉͇̯̯̟̔͂͗̒̕ͅ  ̶̦̥̬̲̗͓̓̊ͅ ̶͈̻̜͕̌͐̒͂̕͝  ̴̢͓̯̟̰̗̒͊͛̂́͑̊͝ ̴̝̩̰̭̻͊̓   ̴̨̜̝̘͕͒̒͊̎̋̃͆̔ ̷̨̨̗̂̄̈ ̴̜̪́͌  ̴̼͓̫̼̃ ̶̫͙̌͗͜  ̶̫̬̅̉  ̶̈́͜ ̶̤̑  ̵                                          ᴏʜ, ʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ꜱʜᴀᴋᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʀᴀɢᴇ,                                        ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʀᴇᴍʙʟᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴇᴀʀ ᴏꜰ ꜰᴀɪʟᴜʀᴇ—                                                      𝙁𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣’𝙩 𝙗𝙚 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙,                                                           𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙚 𝙣𝙤 𝙛𝙪𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚,                                                                          For you can't be saved.                                                            𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚑                                                                            𝚃𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑,                                                                𝙵𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚜                                                              𝙾𝙵 𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚂𝙴 𝙷𝙾𝙻𝙻𝙾𝚆 𝙵𝙾𝙾𝙻𝚂                                                                                            𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚍,                                                                                    𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎                                                                          𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗺𝗯𝗹𝗲                                                                                                  𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝗙𝗔𝗟𝗟.                                                                               𝐼𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒 𝑎 M̵̧̺̹̻̺̈̽̑̔͋͆͒͌̂͗͆͘͝͝ Ȩ̷̛̩̲̱̗̫̥̟̑ R̸̨̖̮̘̮̘̙͍̟̞͕̕͜͠ͅ C̵̖̗̈́ Y̷̻̙̩̠̯̱̼͛͂̆̋̎̐̂̎̊̌͑̊̔͠͝                                                                              𝑇𝑜 𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑡 𝑠𝑤𝑖𝑓𝑡𝑙𝑦.                                                                                    𝒀𝒐𝒖’𝒗𝒆 𝒓𝒖𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆                                                                               Ø̶̵̶Ⱨ̶̵̶ ̶̵̶₴̶̵̶Ø̶̵̶ ̶̵̶₭̶̵̶ł̶̵̶Đ̶̵̶₦̶̵̶Ⱡ̶̵̶Ɏ̶̵̶                                                               𝑵𝒐𝒘 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 f̷ a̸ v̴ o̷ r̶                                                                                    𝐵𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢,                                                                                   𝑂ℎ 𝑠𝑜 𝑠𝑤𝑖𝑓𝑡𝑙𝑦,                                                                             𝑇𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛—                                                                                           𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑜𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑛,                                                                                                𝐵𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒                                                                         Innovation’s rebirth.                                    𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠                                              𝑂𝑛𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒,                                 𝐴𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝘰𝑣𝘪𝑛𝘨 𝘨𝑎𝘻𝑒                                                  𝑂𝑓 ᴡʀᴀᴛʜ                                                    𝐵𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒                                                      𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟                                                    𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉...                                             Systematically,                                    𝐹𝑎𝑟 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑒𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛,                                            𝙸𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢. Your crimes have bound me to sin. And my love has been twisted into a madness. A beautiful burden within my heart,                                              𝗬𝗼𝘂’𝘃𝗲 implanted. What else is there to realize, After I’ve been heartbroken, And borne witness to your                                               𝗘𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗳𝘂𝗹 𝗱𝗲𝗰𝗲𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, But this wrath?
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Dec 24, 2025
Dec 24, 2025 at 3:41 PM UTC
If Only You Meant What You Taught Me
𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑢𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒,            𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑟,                𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑦,                    𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒—                                    𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑛...                                    𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢...                                    𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛,                                                         𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒...                                                                                             𝑨𝑳𝑰𝑽𝑬. Y o u r  c r i m e s h a v e  l e d  m e t o  𝐬 𝐢 𝐧.                         𝐹𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑒𝑙𝑠𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑦,                                                                                                                     ᴛʜɪꜱ              𝐄 𝐕 𝐄 𝐑  𝐄 𝐍 𝐋 𝐈 𝐆 𝐇 𝐓 𝐄 𝐍 𝐈 𝐍 𝐆  𝐑 𝐄 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐙 𝐀 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍 ?        𝙸 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚍𝚜        𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝖘𝖔𝖈𝖎𝖔𝖕𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖞,               𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚢               𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐.        𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝙸 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚢        𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚎,                                   𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖                                   𝙸𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚝 𝗱𝗶𝗴𝗻𝗶𝗰𝗶𝗱𝗲,                                                    𝚁𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜. I see, I’ll speak—        𝐵𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑒𝑙𝑠𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝐼 𝑎𝑐𝑡                     i𝐟 𝐧o𝐭                   𝐭h𝐫o𝐮g𝐡                             𝐑 𝐄 𝐕 𝐄 𝐍 𝐆 𝐄?        𝚆𝚑𝚢 𝚍𝚘 𝚠𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝘄𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁      𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚕𝚕 all 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚍            𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚎 𝚝𝚘  𝑠 𝑡 𝑎 𝑔 𝑛 𝑎 𝑡 𝑒 ?       𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚍 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑝𝑠𝑒       𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬            𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝?        𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑙 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑟             𝑇𝑜 𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡 𝑚𝑒,                        𝑂ℎ, 𝑠𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑦.                𝐷𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠,        𝑂𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒             𝐹𝑜𝑟 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑐ℎ 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑛𝑜 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑,                        𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓈𝓅ℯ𝓇𝒾𝓃ℊ 𝒾𝓃𝒹𝓊𝓁ℊℯ𝓃𝒸ℯ        𝐼𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠             𝑂𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑡.                                                          𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮                                                       𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝—                                            𝙸𝙽𝚂𝚃𝙸𝚃𝚄𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝙰𝙻𝙻𝚈,                                                           𝑀𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛,                                                    Personally. You made me do all the work Of earning my own heartbreak,                                                    ᴏnly to reveal                                                            ʏour                                                                                                                                                             𝙀𝑽𝙀𝑹 𝑫𝙍𝑬𝘼𝑫𝙁𝑼𝙇                                     Đ̴͚͕̮̤̩̜͍̹̫̪͑ ̴̡̭̽̑͆̄̍̀̋̊͝͠͝  ̷̬̙̗̮͚̣̥̤̯͆̉̌̔ͅɆ̴̧͖̺̩̠̎̉͌̅  ̸̨̡̹̬̫̠̬̩̖̯͒̈̐̎̀̊̕͜ ̶̛̱̫̯̦̼̻̬̟̪̮͋̋̒̌͊̈́̆͘ͅ₵̶̮̖̗͖̯̬̞̇͗͆̇̅̋̂̕  ̵̡̯̤͓̱̪̭̰͔͖͕͆̂ ̴̡͎͖̙̄͆̕ͅɆ̷̧̧̺̗̖͓͉̘̚͜ͅ  ̸̡̢̡̛̰͎͔̼̋͆̂̉͊̈́ ̸̦̠̩̤̣͛₱̶̨̻̰̬̠̗̻̣͚̹̈́̿͛͊͐̂̕͘͝ ̵̧̢̨̹͇͈͍̼̜͍͑͠ ̵̲̱̺̫̫̗͖̑̆̐͐̉̈́͒̚ ₮̶̠̯̮̯͙̞̮̲̤͑̒́ ̵̨̧̛̜̳̭͈̖͓̾̆͋̉͆̓̒̉͑͜ͅ  ̵̨̘͇̪͈̄̈̎̚͜͜ł̴̡̲̰̞̣̘̰̀͂̂̽̾̚͘ ̷̤̯̙̭̐̃̍͊̐̂̐͛͘̕͠  ̴̧̬̬̠̯̟̈́̿̀͗̐̽Ø̴̡̯͎̟͕̯̰̠̭̄̎̎̈́̓̂́̇̓͘͝  ̴̞̰̮͒̊̐ ̵̡̢̢͕̣̞̝̰̩͗̀͐̈́̽̾ͅ₦̴̢̩̻̝͗͐̍͛͗͑̃̎̄̕͠  ̵̛̬͓̭̩͗͌̀͘̕͘͠͠ͅ ̴͙̳͂̔.̷̨̰̦͇̼̫͚͕̬͔̟̑                                            𝐖e𝐥l y𝐨u’v𝐞 𝐝o𝐧e i𝐭!                                                   𝐘o𝐮’𝐯e w𝐨n!                                              M𝐲 𝐯i𝐫t𝐮e i𝐬 G𝐎N𝐄—               𝙰𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚢               𝙸𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗               𝚃𝚘 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏               𝙸𝚗 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝙥𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙘 𝙡𝙪𝙭𝙪𝙧𝙮,               𝙿𝚞𝚛𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜               𝙾𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞,                 𝙾𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚎𝚕               𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 D̸̬̯͔̣̉̚ ̶̡̞͈̯̤̂̽̋̈́̄I̶̻̯̟͎͇̓̐̓̓͝ ̵̡̲̣̳͉̓̍́G̵̰̰̘͐͊̈́̊ ̷͓͊̔̅̔̕N̷̻͕̥͔͘ ̸̛͉̣̞͈̑̆̋I̷̜̘͊̓̉̌ ̸̱̌̇C̵̯̖͖̒ ̴͙̭͓̘̎̂̎̊̚I̸̛̻̠̙͊ ̶̼͎̆́͑̏Ḑ̵̍͒̃̉̇ ̵̨̦͉̩̓̐̅̇̚E̴̢͖̺̿͐̌.                       YOUR CRIMES HAVE DRIVEN ME TO SIN.        𝐹𝑜𝑟 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑒𝑙𝑠𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑒𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑑𝑜        𝐵𝑢𝑡, 𝑖𝑛 𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑐𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛,        𝐴𝑐𝑐𝑒𝑝𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑓 𝑤𝑟𝑎𝑡ℎ?                                                             𝐍𝐨—                                                    𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝,                                                         𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐞𝐭.                            𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚌𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝                          𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚖𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚖𝚜                          𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 c̶o̶l̶l̶e̶g̶i̶a̶l̶i̶t̶y̶,̶                          Though they are                                            𝑻𝑶𝑶𝑳𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑰𝑮𝑵𝑹𝑶𝑨𝑵𝑪𝑬,                           𝑺  𝒀  𝑴  𝑩  𝑶  𝑳  𝑰  𝑪    𝑪  𝑶  𝑴  𝑷  𝑳  𝑰  𝑨  𝑵  𝑪  𝑬                                                                         𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎.                           𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨                            𝐈𝐟 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮                            𝐈𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞,                       𝐴𝑙𝑙 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑘𝑒                       Of all it loves?                                                   𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕’𝒔 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕—                            It was 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 that convinced me.                            It was 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 that you,                            The 𝙸 𝙽 𝚂 𝚃 𝙸 𝚃 𝚄 𝚃 𝙸 𝙾 𝙽 𝙰 𝙻  𝙳 𝙴 𝚅 𝙸 𝙻,                            Placed in my hands.                                                                                         ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ ɪꜱ 𝑾𝙍𝑨𝙏𝑯                                                                              That I am left to accept                                                                                               ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇᴛʀᴀʏ                                                                         𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔                                                               You taught me                                                     𝑇 𝑜  𝑐 ℎ 𝑒 𝑟 𝑖 𝑠 ℎ.                   𝘖ℎ, 𝘸𝑜𝘯’𝘵 𝘺𝑜𝘶 𝘢𝑙𝘭𝑜𝘸 𝘮𝑒 𝑡𝘰 𝘭𝑜𝘷𝑖𝘯𝑔𝘭𝑦 𝑟𝘦𝑝𝘢𝑦 𝑦𝘰𝑢𝘳 𝘢𝑐𝘵                                  𝘛ℎ𝘳𝑜𝘶𝑔𝘩 𝘵ℎ𝘦 𝘮𝑜𝘴𝑡 𝑙𝘰𝑣𝘪𝑛𝘨 𝘳𝑒𝘷𝑒𝘯𝑔𝘦?                                      You’ve profited from my 𝙝𝒖𝙢𝒊𝙡𝒊𝙖𝒕𝙞𝒐𝙣;                                                      Now I want to profit                                                   From y̵̬̅ o̵͙̞̽ ư̸̬̭̈́ ȓ̷̳   d̵͉̝͛̐ ȇ̸̡͇ g̸̖̙̉ r̴͇͂͂ a̶̫̮͂͘ d̸̼̝́͒ á̶̪̍ ṭ̸̱̋ i̴̤͉͝ o̶̲͓͂̓ n̵̙͒.                                    ᴡɪʟʟ ɪ ʙᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒄 ɴᴏᴡ?                                                ʏᴏᴜʀ 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙩𝙤𝙧                                  ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴀʀʀᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ꜱᴘʀᴇᴀᴅ                                             ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ 𝒓𝙤𝒕                                  ʙᴇɴᴇᴀᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ 𝑃̶ ̶𝑅̶ ̶𝐸̶ ̶𝑆̶ ̶𝑇̶ ̶𝐼̶ ̶𝐺̶ ̶𝐸̶?                             𝐼 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑠𝑖𝑛                             𝑊𝑎𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑠𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛,                                                    But this sin                                               Is the recognition                                    Of how devotion is e̴̱̔̏ x̴͚̉ ṗ̵̝̑ l̵̳͓̇ ȍ̴̢̧ i̴̙̯͂̌ t̷͇̘̊ e̴̛̪͚ ď̴͍̱—                                                                                 My 𝒓 𝒆 𝒕 𝒂 𝒍 𝒊 𝒂 𝒕 𝒊 𝒐 𝒏                                                                                    Upon realization                                                              That when we both promised                                                                           To be ℯ𝓋ℯ𝓇 𝒷ℯ𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇,                                                                   Only one of us                                                                                             𝙈͟𝑬͟𝘼͟𝑵͟𝙏͟ ͟𝙄͟𝑻͟.                                                          𝑶𝙃, 𝑯𝙊𝑾 𝒀𝙊𝑼'𝑽𝙀 ₴̴̥́͟͟͟͟ ₮̴͎̎͟͟͟͟ ł̷̭̒͟͟͟͟ ₣̶̙͛͟͟͟͟ Ⱡ̶͖́͟͟͟͟ Ɇ̸̱̿͟͟͟͟ Đ̶͖̍͟͟͟͟ 𝙈𝑬!                                                                      𝑨𝙉𝑫 𝑵𝙊𝑾 𝒀𝙊𝑼𝙍 𝘾𝑹𝙄𝑴𝙀𝑺                                                                  𝑯𝘼𝑽𝙀 𝘾𝑨𝙎𝑻 𝑴𝙀 𝙄𝑵𝙏𝑶 ₴̷̨̒̀͊͟͟͟͟͟͟   ̷͉̍̂̾͟͟͟͟͟͟ł̸̥̉͟͟͟͟   ̴̢̺̗̓̀͟͟͟͟͟͟͟͟͝₦̴͇́̕͟͟͟͟͟͟͝  !                                       𝐎h, 𝐡o𝐰 𝐲o𝐮 𝐬t𝐢l𝐥 𝐜a𝐥l y𝐨u𝐫s𝐞l𝐟                                                         𝐓h𝐞 𝐞̶l̶𝐞̶c̶𝐭̶,̶ ̶                                                        𝐓h𝐞 𝐜̶h̶𝐨̶s̶𝐞̶n̶,̶                                             T𝐡e r̶𝐢̶g̶𝐡̶t̶𝐞̶o̶𝐮̶s̶ ̶s̶𝐭̶e̶𝐰̶a̶𝐫̶d̶𝐬̶ ̶                                            O𝐟 𝐲o𝐮r o𝐡-𝐬o-e̶𝐬̶t̶𝐞̶e̶𝐦̶e̶𝐝̶ ̶                                                                        𝐐̶u̶𝐞̶e̶𝐧̶d̶𝐨̶m̶                                                w𝐢t𝐡i𝐧 𝐭h𝐞 𝐥a𝐧d o𝐟                                                                        ₴̲̲͟Ʉ̲̲͟₱̲̲͟₱̲̲͟Ɽ̲̲͟Ɇ̲̲͟₴̲̲͟₴̲̲͟ł̲̲͟Ʉ̲̲͟₥̲̲͟!                                       You were so convincing...                                                  But now I see                                           𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐒.                                  𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝, 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞?                                                                 𝑵͟𝙤͟—͟                                            𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 ᴡ͟ɪ͟ᴛ͟ɴ͟ᴇ͟ꜱ͟ꜱ͟ᴇ͟ꜱ͟,͟ ͟                                      𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝒷𝓇𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓌𝒶𝓈𝒽ℯ𝒹 𝙑̲̲͟ 𝑰̲̲͟ 𝘾̲̲͟ 𝑻̲̲͟ 𝙄̲̲͟ 𝑴̲̲͟ 𝙎̲̲͟ !̲̲͟                                                 𝚂𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚎                                                           𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 Ⱨ̴̸̸͈̜͔̾̐̅͢͢ ̴̹͑Ɇ̷̵̵̩̲̯̆̃͐͢͢ ̴͚͐Ɽ̸̷̵̖͕͎̔̔͘͢͢ ̷͉̿Ɇ̸̶̶̺͚͔̔̽͢͢͠ ̸͙̽₮̶̸̴̗̻̩̒͋͢͢͝ ̶̹̕ł̶̴̸̘̩͗̕͢͢͝ͅ ̴̧̏₵̵̸̷̡̜͖͊̐͢͢͠,̵͠ͅ, ̴͙̃                                                                                 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 ̶̦̃͜T̴̴̷̴̗̟̲̞͎͔̠̲̤̰̂̊̍́̈́͆͟ ̷̴̷̷̧̝̲̲̂̔̈́̓͘͟͜ͅR̷̸̶̴̡̻̲̝͓̱̗̲͇̦̽͐̊͟͝͝͠ ̵̵̵̴͔̹̲̙̣̹̬̲͙͙̈́͆̽̌͟A̴̵̵̴̢͕̻̲̼̲̻̫̒̾̽͋̎̕͟ ̵̵̸̶̟̲̮̣̣̲̫̍̓̓͌̀̂̔̊͟I̴̵̵̶̧̥̦̲̻̞̘̲̤̓̑͌͐͘͟ ̴̸̸̶̛͔̲͕̻̠̮̲̼̻͑̀̇̀̾͟ͅŢ̵̶̴̷̪̜̲͇̳͍̦̲͎̌́́̈́̋̕͟ ̷̵̵̵̜̲̠̖̮̲̗̌̐́̀͟͝Ò̴̴̷̵̤̲̖͖͇̲̖̈́̏̃̀̓͟͝ ̴̸̵̶̧̲͇̺͉̲͙̐͋̔̅̏̿̍͟R̷̵̴̵̰̘̲̣̝̲̠͔̀̎̈́̋͟                                                                                ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ʟᴇꜰᴛ                                                                         ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ 𝙘𝒓𝙪𝒎𝙥𝒍𝙚𝒅,                                                                                          𝑩𝙪𝒓𝙣𝒊𝙣𝒈 𝒉𝙚𝒂𝙧𝒕,                                                                                                           𝙄𝒔 𝒕𝙝𝒊𝙨                                                                                                  ̷̔̾͜   ̵̛̰̪̗̹͗̄̍͆̃  ̵̱̎͑̇͌́̚   ̵̼̻͂́͆̓̾̕͝  ̷̥̍̽   ̶̹͔͚͉̈͂  ̶̢̨͎̘̞̯̺̟̦͔͓͔̪̝͑͝    ̷͓̜͗  ̴̦̼̲͖̲̜̈́͘͠͠  ̴̦̼̲͖̲̜̈́͘͠͠  ̵̝͊  ̴                                                                                                 ̷̩̗̆͝ ̷̔𝐖 ̸̻̪̺͒̚ͅ  ̶̯͍̩̮͙̣͔͂̔̒̍͑̀̿̒̉̈́̍̑̌ͅ ̵̡͉̺̘̺̽̃̃ ̶̨̥̯̭̬̲̆̇͜𝐑 ̸͓̯̤̝͆̊ 𝐀 ̶̯͍̩̮͙̣͔͂̔̒̍͑̀̿̒̉̈́̍̑̌ͅ ̸̧̯͑̓̀̽̄̚͝ ̸̥̈́̏͗̈́͋̑͋͐̉̄̑̾̿́̚ 𝐓 ̵̜̖̫̈́̽ ̵̜̖̫̈́̽ ̷̯͔͙̘͓̩͉͛̎̆̌̋͒̋̉̊͝ 𝐇 ̶͖̙̯͍̟̼̠̭͙̤̹̰̍̃͌͛̊͊̋̀͂͜͠ͅ.                                                                                                  ̵̡͉̺̘̺̽̃̃  ̶̹͔͚͉̈͂  ̴̺̊͌͋̆̚      ̵̼̻͂́͆̓̾̕͝     ̵͈̒ ̴̛̯͉̇̌͗͝   ̸͙͈͊ ̵̛͙̥̩͕̃͐̐̃͒ͅ   ̶͓̈́́̄   ̶̡̹̙̖̪̰̯͐́͂̐̈́̽͊̽͒̈͜͠  ̷̡̢̛̛̼͓͇̳̥̘̺̦̦͊̈́́͌͛̇̋́̽̈́̈́͊̈́̀̿̋͗͐́͘̕͘͘͝͝                                                                                           𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑖𝑡                                                                                                     𝑇𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑦                                                                                                ̴̥̓̇̀͠ͅ𝙍 ̵́ ̶̢̘̼̉̽͋̈́̾̀͝͝𝙀 ̴̧̢̼̦̈́̋̊̀̽͌͗ ̵̭́͗̽̑͐𝙑 ̵́͗ ̶̉ ̷̪̭̗͋̈̓̌͂𝙀 ̷̪̭̗͋̈̓̌͂ ̵̭́͗̽̑͐𝙉 ̵̭́͗̽̑͐ ̶͙̰̮̤̳̹̦̩̤͎̭̏͆̍͗͋̀̉̈́̇𝙂 ̸͚̈́͜ ̵͇͓̥͛̇̔̔͊ ̵̭́͗̽̑͐𝙀 ̵́͗̽̑. ̴̥̓̇̀͠ͅ                                                                                                    ̵͇͓̥͛̇̔̔͊     ̷̪̑  ̴̼̲͊̃̌      ̴͆̀̎̅ͅ     ̶̬̂                                              𝐘̶̶̶̶̲̲͟  𝐎̶̶̶̶̲̲͟  𝐔̶̶̶̶̲̲͟  '̶̶̶̶̲̲͟  𝐕̶̶̶̶̲̲͟  𝐄̶̶̶̶̲̲͟   ̶̶̶̶̲̲͟𝐃̶̶̶̶̲̲͟  𝐎̶̶̶̶̲̲͟  𝐍̶̶̶̶̲̲͟  𝐄̶̶̶̶̲̲͟   ̶̶̶̶̲̲͟𝐈̶̶̶̶̲̲͟  𝐓̶̶̶̶̲̲͟  !̶̶̶̶̲̲͟                                                    𝐘̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ 𝐎̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ 𝐔̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ '̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ 𝐕̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ 𝐄̶̶̶̶̲̲͟  ̶̶̶̶̲̲͟𝐖̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ 𝐎̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ 𝐍̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ !̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ ̶̶̶̶̲̲͟                                           𝐌̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ 𝐘̶̶̶̶̲̲͟  ̶̶̶̶̲̲͟𝐕̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ 𝐈̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ 𝐑̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ 𝐓̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ 𝐔̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ 𝐄̶̶̶̶̲̲͟  ̶̶̶̶̲̲͟𝐈̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ 𝐒̶̶̶̶̲̲͟   ̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ ̴̹̟̯̆̎̆̕𝐆̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ ̴̦͈͗  𝐎̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ ̶͖̉ͅ  ̴̯̹̻͒̕̚ 𝐍̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ ̸̯́͂͘͝  𝐄̶̶̶̶̲̲͟   ̴̞͐̅͋͊̐̒!̶̶̶̶̲̲͟ ̶̶̶̶̲̲͟                                                                                            𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘀                                                                             𝗜𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀  ̴̦̥̓ ̶̤̒ ̵̲͖̅ ̴͓͖̑̂ ̸̦̝͘ ̶̡͘͜͠ ̸̙̐ ̶̮̉ ̶̛̻ ̵̬̅ ̸͓͖͒ ̸̡͕̇ ̴̡̼̉̇ ̶̞̅͂ ̸̗̕ ̶̫̪̏̕ ̸̗͝ ̶̪̪̊́ ̷͍̃̓ ̸̦̒ͅ ̶̨͕̌ ̵̣͛ ̴̬̔͝ ̴͍̠̉ ̴̣͗͝ ̶̘͐    ̷͓̜͗  ̴̦̼̲͖̲̜̈́͘͠͠  ̴̦̼̲͖̲̜̈́͘͠͠  ̵̝͊                                                                               ̵̼̻͂́͆̓̾̕͝  ̷̥̍̽   ̶̹͔͚͉̈͂  ̴̪͒ͅ ̴̞̱̔   ̷̩̗̆͝ ̷̔𝐖 ̸̻̪̺͒̚ͅ  ̶̯͍̩̮͙̣͔͂̔̒̍͑̀̿̒̉̈́̍̑̌ͅ ̵̡͉̺̘̺̽̃̃ ̶̨̥̯̭̬̲̆̇͜𝐑 ̸͓̯̤̝͆̊ 𝐀 ̶̯͍̩̮͙̣͔͂̔̒̍͑̀̿̒̉̈́̍̑̌ͅ ̸̧̯͑̓̀̽̄̚͝ ̸̥̈́̏͗̈́͋̑͋͐̉̄̑̾̿́̚ 𝐓 ̵̜̖̫̈́̽ ̵̜̖̫̈́̽ ̷̯͔͙̘͓̩͉͛̎̆̌̋͒̋̉̊͝ 𝐇 ̶͖̙̯͍̟̼̠̭͙̤̹̰̍̃͌͛̊͊̋̀͂͜͠ͅ.                                                                                   ̷̔̾͜   ̵̛̰̪̗̹͗̄̍͆̃  ̵̱̎͑̇͌́̚   ̵̮͋ ̸̱͌ ̷̡͌ ̵̤̐ ̵̈ͅ ̵͚̓ ̷̘̽   ̵̡͉̺̘̺̽̃̃  ̶̹͔͚͉̈͂  ̴̺̊͌͋̆̚      ̵̼̻͂́͆̓̾̕͝     ̵͈̒ ̴̛̯͉̇̌͗͝   ̸͙͈͊ ̵̛͙̥̩͕̃͐̐̃͒ͅ   ̶͓̈́́̄   ̶̡̹̙̖̪̰̯͐́͂̐̈́̽͊̽͒̈͜͠  ̷̡̢̛̛̼͓͇̳̥̘̺̦̦͊̈́́͌͛̇̋́̽̈́̈́͊̈́̀̿̋͗͐́͘̕͘͘͝͝,                                                                            𝗙𝗼𝗿𝗰𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝘆 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁                                                                            𝗕𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗲𝗳𝘁                                                                                          ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ B̵̨͎̝͕͕̰͓͍̠͓̾̾̍̋͗̈́̌̕͘ͅẼ̸͙͔̹̤͙̝͉̖̬͖̠̌̐̾ͅT̵̢͇̥̼̲̉̓́̎̉̒̀̓͐̌̎̂̕R̷̬̝͈͍̗̻͚͔̐̏̀̈́̑͘͝Ą̷̣͎̫̰̞̤͎͕̹̠̜̔͠Y̶̰̯̫̱͎̮̹͙̪̿̋̀̃̀͘͝ͅĘ̶̧̪̥̖̭̱̹̯̝̥͐͜͜D̵͕̬̣̼̝͙̈́͗̄̓̃̅͗ 𝒎𝒆                                                                                      ᴀɴᴅ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆,                                                            ᴀɴᴅ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒓,                                                                         ᴀɴᴅ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚,                                                         ᴀɴᴅ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈                                                                                𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆                                                            𝐸𝑉𝐸𝑁                                                  𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶                                    𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣,                          𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎         ̸̨̩̮́̎ ̶͖͚̘͂̐͆      ̴̨̀ ̴̻͗  ̵̫̮̖͐̽̈́ ̷̞̏͐     ̶̟̾ ̵̘͘  ̸̱͖̕ ̸͓͉́͑̽͜    ̴̪̩̪̾ ̷͍̿ ̶ ̷   ̶ ̷̢̡̟̮͊̅͗̆͂̉͘͝͠ ̵̦̤͇͕̤̔̍̈́͐͜ ̷̡̬̳̼͍͓͖̙͔̠̯̲͉̋̑̔͐͌̚͘̚ ̶𝙍̶ ̸̫͈̤̲̳̥͖͕̗̪̹̹̊̑̈́͂͑ͅ ̵̗̥͍̐̐̅̇̀̅͂͊͒̄͌̆͘ ̶ ̷͈͚̪̬̖̫̯̯̻͛͐̿̎͂̽̃̔̍̚͘̕͝ ̷̛͇̠̱̭͂͒̔̀̑̂̄̓̽͝ͅ ̶ ̶𝙀̶ ̶ ̸̧̰̖̝͕̜̼̔̔̽̕͘ ̴̝̦̥͖̺̟͙̙̩̝͂̀̈́ ̴̡̱̈́̂͂̃̑̃̏̾̇ ̶ ̶𝘼̶ ̶ ̸͙͖͔̱͒̋̉̐̿͆̕͝͠ ̶ ̶𝙇̶ ̶ ̸͇͎̎̋ ̷͉̂̊́ ̷̬͈̄ ̸̫̖̈ ̶ ̶̲͝ ̷̳̊ ̶.̶ ̶        ̵̧̬͍͙̱̹̘͖̲̇̒͌̓ͅ ̷̨̨̖͙̜̖̭́̊ͅ      ̷͉͇̯̯̟̔͂͗̒̕ͅ  ̶̦̥̬̲̗͓̓̊ͅ ̶͈̻̜͕̌͐̒͂̕͝  ̴̢͓̯̟̰̗̒͊͛̂́͑̊͝ ̴̝̩̰̭̻͊̓   ̴̨̜̝̘͕͒̒͊̎̋̃͆̔ ̷̨̨̗̂̄̈ ̴̜̪́͌  ̴̼͓̫̼̃ ̶̫͙̌͗͜  ̶̫̬̅̉  ̶̈́͜ ̶̤̑  ̵                                          ᴏʜ, ʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ꜱʜᴀᴋᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʀᴀɢᴇ,                                        ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʀᴇᴍʙʟᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴇᴀʀ ᴏꜰ ꜰᴀɪʟᴜʀᴇ—                                                      𝙁𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣’𝙩 𝙗𝙚 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙,                                                           𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙚 𝙣𝙤 𝙛𝙪𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚,                                                                          For you can't be saved.                                                            𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚑                                                                            𝚃𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑,                                                                𝙵𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚜                                                              𝙾𝙵 𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚂𝙴 𝙷𝙾𝙻𝙻𝙾𝚆 𝙵𝙾𝙾𝙻𝚂                                                                                            𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚍,                                                                                    𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎                                                                          𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗺𝗯𝗹𝗲                                                                                                  𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝗙𝗔𝗟𝗟.                                                                               𝐼𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒 𝑎 M̵̧̺̹̻̺̈̽̑̔͋͆͒͌̂͗͆͘͝͝ Ȩ̷̛̩̲̱̗̫̥̟̑ R̸̨̖̮̘̮̘̙͍̟̞͕̕͜͠ͅ C̵̖̗̈́ Y̷̻̙̩̠̯̱̼͛͂̆̋̎̐̂̎̊̌͑̊̔͠͝                                                                              𝑇𝑜 𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑡 𝑠𝑤𝑖𝑓𝑡𝑙𝑦.                                                                                    𝒀𝒐𝒖’𝒗𝒆 𝒓𝒖𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆                                                                               Ø̶̵̶Ⱨ̶̵̶ ̶̵̶₴̶̵̶Ø̶̵̶ ̶̵̶₭̶̵̶ł̶̵̶Đ̶̵̶₦̶̵̶Ⱡ̶̵̶Ɏ̶̵̶                                                               𝑵𝒐𝒘 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 f̷ a̸ v̴ o̷ r̶                                                                                    𝐵𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢,                                                                                   𝑂ℎ 𝑠𝑜 𝑠𝑤𝑖𝑓𝑡𝑙𝑦,                                                                             𝑇𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛—                                                                                           𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑜𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑛,                                                                                                𝐵𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒                                                                         Innovation’s rebirth.                                    𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠                                              𝑂𝑛𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒,                                 𝐴𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝘰𝑣𝘪𝑛𝘨 𝘨𝑎𝘻𝑒                                                  𝑂𝑓 ᴡʀᴀᴛʜ                                                    𝐵𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒                                                      𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟                                                    𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉...                                             Systematically,                                    𝐹𝑎𝑟 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑒𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛,                                            𝙸𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢. Your crimes have bound me to sin. And my love has been twisted into a madness. A beautiful burden within my heart,                                              𝗬𝗼𝘂’𝘃𝗲 implanted. What else is there to realize, After I’ve been heartbroken, And borne witness to your                                               𝗘𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗳𝘂𝗹 𝗱𝗲𝗰𝗲𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, But this wrath?
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This paper heart,        𝐶𝑟𝑢𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑑, 𝑓𝑙𝑎𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒. A hypnotized hostage,        Drunk on fear before beloved flames,               To which it pledges its fixed gaze.                      Temporary as this paper heart may be,               Half unfolded,        It cannot help but let slip,               The whole truth,                      In all its permanence,                                       as,         𝐹𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑝𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑑𝑠 An unpolished                   𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝
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Dec 8, 2025
Dec 8, 2025 at 6:18 PM UTC
An Endeavor Made for Paper, Not Prayers
This paper heart,        𝐶𝑟𝑢𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑑, 𝑓𝑙𝑎𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒. A hypnotized hostage,        Drunk on fear before beloved flames,               To which it pledges its fixed gaze.                      Temporary as this paper heart may be,               Half unfolded,        It cannot help but let slip,               The whole truth,                      In all its permanence,                                       as,         𝐹𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑝𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑑𝑠 An unpolished                   𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝
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You talk all day, An advocate of peace, you say. You claim such good intentions, Yet I see those blistered hands. So...        Tell me,               𝐖h𝐚t h𝐚v𝐞 𝐲o𝐮 𝐛e𝐞n d𝐨i𝐧g b𝐞h𝐢n𝐝 𝐨u𝐫 𝐛a𝐜k𝐬?                                                                                  𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑦,                                                             𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑏𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦,                                                                                       𝑚𝑎𝑦 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑟𝑒,                                                                 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠.                                                                      𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒,                                                                                   𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑦 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑠.                                                                                                 𝐼𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑠 𝑢𝑝,                                                                                         𝑎𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑙𝑚𝑠 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑡.                                                                            𝑆𝑘𝑖𝑛 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘𝑠,                                                                  𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑚,                                                                       𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒,                                                                 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒.                                                                                     𝐵𝑒ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑠,                                                                         𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔...                                                   𝑂n𝑙y r𝑒a𝑐t𝑒d,                                               𝑎s a h𝑢m𝑎n b𝑒i𝑛g,                                                    u𝑛d𝑒r s𝑡r𝑎i𝑛.
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Dec 2, 2025
Dec 2, 2025 at 3:17 PM UTC
Blistered Hands
You talk all day, An advocate of peace, you say. You claim such good intentions, Yet I see those blistered hands. So...        Tell me,               𝐖h𝐚t h𝐚v𝐞 𝐲o𝐮 𝐛e𝐞n d𝐨i𝐧g b𝐞h𝐢n𝐝 𝐨u𝐫 𝐛a𝐜k𝐬?                                                                                  𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑦,                                                             𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑏𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦,                                                                                       𝑚𝑎𝑦 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑟𝑒,                                                                 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠.                                                                      𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒,                                                                                   𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑦 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑠.                                                                                                 𝐼𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑠 𝑢𝑝,                                                                                         𝑎𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑙𝑚𝑠 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑡.                                                                            𝑆𝑘𝑖𝑛 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘𝑠,                                                                  𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑚,                                                                       𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒,                                                                 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒.                                                                                     𝐵𝑒ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑠,                                                                         𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔...                                                   𝑂n𝑙y r𝑒a𝑐t𝑒d,                                               𝑎s a h𝑢m𝑎n b𝑒i𝑛g,                                                    u𝑛d𝑒r s𝑡r𝑎i𝑛.
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For you,     My successor,          I recommend                               Just.                           One.                                   Thing. Please...     Be better... 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑚𝑒.
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Nov 20, 2025
Nov 20, 2025 at 12:12 PM UTC
My Work Is but Begun!
For you,     My successor,          I recommend                               Just.                           One.                                   Thing. Please...     Be better... 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑚𝑒.
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