𝕭𝖚𝖙 𝖎𝖙'𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖑.

𝕴𝖙 𝖈𝖆𝖓'𝖙 𝖇𝖊 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖑.

ᶦ ᵃᵐ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵃ ᶜʰᶦˡᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᶦˢ ʷᵒʳˡᵈ.

          ł ₳₥ JɄ₴₮ ₱₳₮ⱧɆ₮ł₵.

          ł ₳₥ ₮ØØ ₱₳₮ⱧɆ₮ł₵ ₮Ø ฿Ɇ ⱤɆ₳Ⱡ.

ᶦ ᵃᵐ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵃ ᵈᵃʸᵈʳᵉᵃᵐ.

ł ₴ɄⱤɆⱠɎ ₥Ʉ₴₮ ฿Ɇ.

𝕮𝖆𝖚𝖘𝖊 𝖎𝖙'𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖑.

𝕴𝖙 𝖈𝖆𝖓'𝖙 𝖇𝖊 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖑.

           ᶦᶠ ᵗʰᶦˢ ᶦˢ ʳᵉᵃˡ—

T̷h̶e̷n̸ ̶j̵u̷s̷t̶    
                          S̷̙̫̿H̵̟͛̄Ö̷̧́̈͆O̷͍̟̓̇̐͗ͅ­T̵͖͐̀͊͂                
              S̶̨̥̮̼̜̜̞̻͐͋̉̋̆͊͛̊͘Ḩ̷̗͇̰̽Ö̴͇̰̻̘̭͉͈́͐͗̊͑̓Õ̵̞̂͛͌̃̚­̝̝T̶̟̎          S̶̨̪̞̹̰͂̓͆́͜Ḥ̵͕̈Ȯ̶͎̳̲͔̼̼͠O̴̭̹̅̒Ț̴͕̜̈́͒̀̏̆́͠ ̸̢̪̉̅̃̑͠ ̸͖̬͌ ̷̮̰͈͓͌̂̋͜ ̸̠̬̪̻͖̠̼̏́̓̆̊͋͑ ̷̗͙̓͂͛̄̽̂͠ ̶̮͇̣̖̩͐͛́̑͝ ̵̛͍̱̗̃̎̑̕ ̵̠̩̰̅̑̄̏̊ ̴̻͇̜͈͉̓́̄ ̶̨͍̖͈̖̲̼̎ ̷̩̬̟͍̯̆̄ ̸͓̣̠̥̲̈́̀̿ ̴͓̰̤̈̏̑̄͒̐͛ ̸̘̲̘̼̰̜̱̐̈́͗̆̉͠ ̷̜̒̿͒̀ ̶̫̗͋̈́̆͒̕ ̸̙͚̳̣̮̈́̅̐͜ ̵͍̻̼̺̤͂̈́ ̷͚̫̞̬̻̤͝ ̴̬̙͓̊ͅ ̵̧͍̫̜̱̂̈́̐̏ͅ ̶̢̫̫͓̈́͒͑͗̽̽͒ ̴̛̰̱̞͆̀͛̋̓͝ ̵̹̗̓͋͊͊̂͌̃.


I̶f̷ ̷t̴h̸i̸s̴ ̷i̵s̶ ̴r̴e̴a̵l̶ ̶j̴u̴s̷t̵ ̷
           𝓜⃥̸𝓐⃥̸𝓚⃥̸𝓔⃥̸ 𝓜⃥̸𝓔⃥̸ 𝓓⃥̸𝓘⃥̸𝓢⃥̸𝓐⃥̸𝓟⃥̸𝓟⃥̸𝓔⃥̸𝓐⃥̸𝓡⃥̸

ᶦᶠ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶠᵃⁿᵗᵃˢʸ

ᶦᶠ ⁿᵒᵗ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵃ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐ

₮ⱧɆ₦ ł ₵₳₦ ₮ØⱠɆⱤ₳₮Ɇ ₳ ₥Ɇ₥ØⱤɎ.

          ᵇᵘᵗ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ.

                          ̶   ̶ ̶𝑵̶𝒐̶.̶

                   𝓝⃥̸𝓞⃥̸𝓣⃥̸.⃥̸

Reality.

Heart of gold,
Your hands grow cold.

Heart of gold,
This is not the end.

Heart of gold,
You are invincible.

Your memory will be,

𝐸𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑙.

-
                                          𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬
                                                  𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧

See bright rays
reveal blood stains

Yesterday, there was life
It vanished
𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵


                                           𝐔𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐮𝐧
                                       𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞

How could the world carry on?
Why do the birds sing a happy song?
𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠


                                                𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲
                                                 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘴𝘰 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘺?

Why were you bleeding?
𝘚𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨

                                                        ­                     Blue petals turned violet
                                                         ­     𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦
                                                        ­                           Why did she do this?
                                                                ­        𝐇𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬

                                                   
                                 ­                                  He fought through the misery
                                      just to be killed by a 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝-𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲
                                                          ­                And she blamed the night
                                                          ­                             but I know
                                           𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧


                                              𝐔𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐮𝐧
                                         𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞

How could the world carry on?
Why do the birds sing a happy song?
𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠


                                                𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲
                                                 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘴𝘰 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘺?

Why were you bleeding?
𝘚𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨










𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑


                                      ­     𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃-𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑


                                                        ­                                               𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑


                                        𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑



See his dead body
                                                            ­                         That rose all ******

                                                She is a 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑








                                                𝐌𝐨­𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲
                                                   𝘐’𝘮 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺.

𝘕𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨


                                                       ­                           They let her get away
                                                                ­          The evidence was ignored
                                                 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳?






                                             𝐔𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐮𝐧
His
Petals were all gone

                                                   Yet somehow

                                                        ­                           The world carried on
                                                            **­w dare they sing a happy song

                                           𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠



                                                𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲
                                                𝘔𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘎𝘰𝘳𝘺

Why were you bleeding?
                                                                ­   
                                       
                     ­                                                                 ­                   𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠



𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆



                                          ­              𝘥𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨











                                  ­             He was torn apart

                                                          ­          Her thorns pierced every part

He was the victim
       But no one believed him

                                                            ­                             She was the killer
                                                                ­But who would suspect her        

And now an innocent
        flower is dead

                                                 His blood is on


                                            𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒

I burn in silent flames,

Gazing at an endless static sky.

Bugs crawl beneath my skin,

As I am betrayed by my own fragments.

Even if the body could be spared,

The mind is still impaired.

Who could see me and say,

That I am still a human being?

Broken things are tossed away,

Perhaps it is the same for me.

I wonder when,

My fate shall be decided.

As I lay,

In my raised bed,

Propped before the eyes of God.

Gaze upon me.

Allow me to reach,

Heights above.


But mercy has never met me.


I have suffered for so long.

Will you move this along?

Why must we prolong,

The misery of the sickly,

Just like the anguish of the lonely?

I eat the blessed food and drink,

But holiness escapes me.

This fragile vessel,

Rejects its blessings.


Honored to be so close to heaven,

But I am not so privileged,

To have a taste of paradise.

So I remain,

In my raised bed,

A sanctuary of suffering.

Closest to heaven,

Furthest from,
                                                           ­                       
                                         ­                                                               Pa­radise.

Eyes forward, you point your finger

at the potential threat before you.


𝐼 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑒𝑠𝑠, 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝐼 𝑠𝑎𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠, 𝐼 𝑙𝑎𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑒𝑑—

for it seems you didn’t notice

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤.



Perhaps not all who stand behind you

do so in friendship.


                                                   ­                                        But worry not—

                                                           ­      there’s nothing forward to fear.

                                                          ­        Not when you’ve already been

                                                           ­                   𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐝.

The beauty of paper flowers
They never wither

The tragedy of paper flowers
They always remember

Your gentle hands could do no harm
But they could let go

A paper flower never wilted

Even worse

It was discarded

A moth ate my clothes
But I didn't really mind
'Cause he said he was a butterfly

Here, love's story begins
Life can't tear it apart
Cause it's powered by the heart

A look of fear in his eyes
She comes running to his side
The bullies say "this'll hurt"
And she makes them all eat dirt

He looks up from the ground
A smile replaces a frown


Here, love's story blossoms
Nothing in this world can stop them
Cause it's powered by the heart

She pulls him up
He starts to blush
Two hearts begin to rush
"Hey, why don't we get some lunch?"

She brought him to a diner
Where he got to know her

From the ground to a table
From strangers to friends
From a table to a movie
From friends to lovers


Here, love's story ignites
Nothing will ever be as bright
Cause it's powered by the heart

She holds his hand
It makes him glad
She kisses his lips
He'll never get sick of it

From a greeting to a wedding
From two kids grew two lovers
From a date to a family
What a happy story

"I've got good news today
Come home soon, and I'll say"
"Oh boy, I can barely wait"

From two lovers grew an accident
How the hell could this happen?
The sirens were too late


Here, life's story ends
Love tore it apart
Cause it was powered by the heart

~~~ Act I ~~~

Behold the queen.
Drenched in such pathetic,

Luxury.

Behold the king.
Soaking in such unauthentic,

Company.


Have you seen the jack?
He been doin somethin, shady, in the,

Back.

But don't ya worry there's, no plan,
To get, caught, in such synthetic,

Conditions.


Do you feel so esteemed?
With your trifles and titles,
And what's real and what's, not?
Do you feel esteemed?
With your scandals and secrets,
Such typical tricks.


Behold!
There's the, Ace.
Look at his, pretty face.
Absorbing that,

Prestige.

But look at that, glacial, gaze.
He got something to,

Say?


Oh I see that, glacial, gaze.
Lookin at somethin you ain't ever gonna,

See.


Behold, the Ace!
With a disappointed look on his, pretty face.
Looks like he ain't gonna,

Say.


Do you feel so esteemed?
With your trifles and titles,
And what's real and what's not?
Do you feel so esteemed?
With your scandals and secrets,
You're making me sick!


Behold the queen,
Plotting with her pretty,

Ladies.

Behold the king,
Oblivious to such unauthentic,

Company.


Oh, behold!
There's jack and the Ace!
Ace, you gonna put him in his, place?
Don't ya got somethin to, say?
Nah, you ain't gonna,

Say.


You know he's their son anyway.
You wouldn't wanna scare him away.
You wouldn't do that to his,

Face.


His FILTHY!
SICK!
Stupid, face...


That ain't the,

FACE,

of a Jack!

That's the face of a...

SPOILED BRAT!



~~~ Act II ~~~

BEHOLD THE QUEEN!
Who MURDERS her husband,
And spoils her rich little son!
BEHOLD THE ACE!
He got SOMETHIN to say!
But he ain't gonna,

Say.


Just look at that, glacial gaze.
Starin at somethin he ain't ever gonna,

See.


HEY, ACE!
Why don't ya TELL jack,
Ya don't like his shady business!?
Ya scared he ain't gonna, care?
Ya scared mama gonna,

Care?


HEY ACE, HEY ACE!
That ain't the FACE of the Ace!
Not with that glacial, gaze.
You gonna keep starin at somethin you ain't ever gonna,

See?


BEHOLD THE QUEEN!
OH SO ESTEEMED!
LOOK AT HER DRENCHED IN SUCH PATHETIC, LUXURY!
OH, BEHOLD THE KING!
HE DROWNED IN SUCH UNAUTHENTIC, COMPANY!

BEHOLD THE JACK!
DOIN SOMETHIN SHADY IN THE BACK!
HEY, ACE!
You gonna put him in his place!?
You just gonna WATCH this corruption,
Let em all feel so,

Esteemed?

Gonna let a mother ****** her husband,
And spoil her rich little son!?
You gonna let him GET AWAY,
With his DANGEROUS, fun!?

OH, THEY FEEL SO ESTEEMED!
WITH THEIR MURDERS AND TRIFLES,
AND WHAT'S REAL AND WHAT'S NOT!
DO YOU FEEL SO ESTEEMED!?
Workin for his mother, that,

*****?


HEY ACE, HEY ACE!
I get it, you're right!
HEY ACE, HEY ACE!
It's above your,

Paygrade.


Hey Ace, you're right.
It's above your,

Paygrade.

But why ya gotta keep, starin,
At somethin you ain't, ever gonna,

See?


Just let that jack be,
He ain't what ya wanna,

See.


Oh Ace, it's above your, paygrade.
You know he's their son, anyway.
So you just gonna stare, with that, glacial, gaze?
At somethin you ain't ever gonna,

See?

Better hope that, mama, don't,

See.

-
                                                  ~~~ 𝐀𝐜𝐭 𝐈 ~~~

There he is. Walking forward, like he’s got somewhere to be – talking to a fake friend, like he’s got something to say. It’s kinda funny, really… how he just keeps going, as if nothing’s wrong.

I mean, what’s he even doing? Failing, falling, getting back up – for what? What’s the point? I mean, why not just shoot  shoot  shoot the past? It’s not like he matters.

He’s smiling now, that faint, stupid smile. Does he even know? Does he realize what he’s done – what he’s done to me?

Maybe I should just shoot  shoot  shoot. It’s not like he’s innocent; he’s the reason everything feels so heavy – the weight that chokes every breath, the reason I’m stuck, trapped in this endless loop of regret and anguish.

Look at him: so weak, so broken, so useless, so undeserving of forgiveness – might as well just shoot  shoot  shoot him.

He’s the barrier; the wall between me and the future. I can see it glimmering just beyond him, pristine… almost within reach – yet he stands, always in the way. Always in the way. Always, always in my way.

Why shouldn’t I just shoot  shoot  shoot? He ruined everything – all his failures, all his cowardice – every time he wasn’t good enough…They’ve become my burden now, my shame, my CURSE.

I should just shoot  shoot  shoot – obliterate him – erase him completely – CUT him out of me like the cancer he is. How dare he smile? HOW DARE HE PRETEND to be innocent?

I just wanna shoot  shoot  shoot. He shouldn’t even be here – not in my present, not in my head. He doesn’t BELONG HERE. And he has no place in my future.

I just wanna shoot  shoot  shoot. I DESERVE BETTER. I deserve FREEDOM.

I just wanna shoot  shoot  shoot. I deserve to move forward – to live without the lingering shadow HE CASTS.

He shouldn’t be walking. He. shouldn’t. Be. Breathing.

I’m just gonna SHOOT  SHOOT  SHOOT – It’s time – TIME to END THIS –

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆  𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆  𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆

HA!

Look how he falls… Finally – THE PAST IS DEAD – DEAD! LOOK AT HIM – as he SMILES FOR THE LAST TIME – that faint, revolting smile – as if he forgives me.

As if I’m the one who needs forgiving.

BUT I DO NOT FORGIVE. NOT. HIM.

No… No, he DESERVED THIS.



                                                 ~~~ 𝐀𝐜𝐭 𝐈𝐈 ~~~

Haha! HAHA! I’ve done it. I’VE WON.

The past is DEAD. Gone. Erased. Obliterated.

And now— now my future is FREE!

I laugh. I LAUGH. I can’t stop laughing. It spills out of me, wild, breathless, unstoppable.

The air feels lighter. The world feels brighter. The shadow is gone. The weight has lifted.

“Future!” I cry out, my voice cracking, my chest heaving.

“Do you see me? Do you see what I’ve done? I’ve killed the imposter! I’ve set us FREE!”

I take a step forward. Then another. And another.

“Future, oh future! I’ve DONE it for you! Have I made you PROUD? Are you HAPPY now?”

My heart races. My legs move faster. The world blurs around me.
But I see it— clearer than ever.

My FUTURE, standing there, smiling, radiant, perfect.

“Future!” I scream, raw, desperate, tears burning my eyes.

“Tell me— are you proud of what I’ve done? Are you proud of ME?”

I’m running now. Faster. Faster. The air rushes past me. My thoughts crash into each other.

And then—

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆

The sound— sharp, sudden, impossible.
I freeze. My legs stop. My breath catches.

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆

The future stumbles. The future falls.

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆

The future is gone…



No…



No, no, no, no, NO.

I CAN’T MOVE. I CAN’T THINK. I CAN’T BREATHE.

“No!” I scream. It rips out of me, raw, broken, mad.

“No! No, no, NO!”

I drop to my knees. My hands claw at the ground. My breath comes in gasps, in sobs, in screams.

“I FINALLY DID IT! I FINALLY FREED THE FUTURE!
HOW!? WHO!? WHO DARED TO TAKE MY PRECIOUS FUTURE!?

WHOEVER DARED— I’LL SHOOT  SHOOT  SHOOT THEM TOO! I’LL—”

My hands reach for my gun. My fingers tremble. My vision blurs.
But before they can touch it—

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆

The sharp pain explodes inside me.

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆

The blood pours out of me.

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆

The life drains from me.


I fall.

I lie there, trembling, breathless, dying.

“Who?” I try to whisper. My voice is broken, faint, barely there.

“Who did this? Who killed my future? Who killed me? After I’ve finally set us free…”

My mind spins. My thoughts spiral. Every fading memory is a blur.

From where, came these bullets?

Why… are they so familiar?

Why— was I the killer?



                                              ~~~ 𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 ~~~

The present lies still now, his story ended. The echoes of his tragedy linger in the air, heavy, slowly settling, like dust after a storm.

Deception appears first, his form flickering like a thousand diamonds, sharp, beautiful, commanding. Reflection follows, her presence luminous and steady, her gaze full of sorrow, full of understanding, soft like a field of lilies swaying in the wind.

Deception’s voice cuts through the silence, cold and judging: “How could he convince himself that the past was someone else? He thought he could rewrite himself. Erase his flaws. Bury his shame.

He thought he could **** the past. And he did.

Shot his past. Shot his future. Shot himself.

What a choice to be made— misguided by misconception. A fool’s wager against time itself.”

Reflection’s voice rises, soft yet deliberate: “Not a fool, but a wounded heart.

He needed not bullets to destroy, but understanding to heal.

Yet, he never stopped to ask why. Why he hated his past. Why it haunted him so.

Had he paused, had he reflected, he might have seen— his past was not his enemy, but his guide, his evidence that he wanted to heal, but needed help.

No, not bullets. He needed a doctor.”

Deception narrows his eyes, his flickering form sharpens, and his cold gaze shifts to fix itself on you— piercing, commanding, powerful.

“Oh? And what of you? Yes, you, dear witness. Or shall I say, 𝑏𝑦𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟?

What will you do? Will you fool yourself into thinking you are different? Will you tell yourself you are free when you give in to the satisfaction of violence?

You’ve felt it, haven’t you? The shame, the pain, the failures.
Do you think you can erase them? Do you think you can cut them away, bury them, shoot  shoot  shoot them?

No.

The future is 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 responsibility, not the fault of the past.

You may not like it. But you cannot destroy it. You cannot **** it.

And if you try— if you reach for the gun— you will destroy yourself.

This story of the nameless present, it will become yours next.”

Reflection steps forward, her gaze gentle yet steady, her voice calm yet resolute: “But you do not have to follow the same path.
Look at what you despise so much. Ask yourself why it hurts, why it lingers, what it means.

Reframe your thoughts. Understand them. Seek not the fate of Revenge, but that dear friend, Redemption.

The past is not your enemy. It is your reminder that you must see at least one of three doctors.”

Deception’s tone grows colder, relentless, his words cutting like ice: “Redemption waits.

But if you refuse, you will lose him forever. And it will break his poor heart, yet again.

You will choose the second Karma, the corruption of Revenge. You will tell yourself it is what you deserve— punishment for your own existence. To take responsibility for what was done to you by others.

And when I warn against such lies, such blind faith in things that exist but aren’t real, you will blame me instead.
You always do.”

Reflection’s voice deepens, her words glowing with solemn truth: “Do not destroy what you do not yet understand. Reflect, rethink, recover.

The pain of your past is a symptom, not the cause.

Your past is the evidence of survival, of endurance, of wrongs done that cannot be made right, but that you can heal from, so you may carry on and transform into a better future.”

Deception laughs then, jagged and knowing, his voice cutting like a blade: “You think you’ll resist, don’t you? But you’ll reach for the gun. It’s what you always do.

You just want to shoot  shoot  shoot— and leave Redemption waiting in the dark with a now twice-broken heart.”

Reflection’s words linger last, luminous and steadfast, a calm light piercing through the shadow:

“You are not broken. You are wounded.

You are not a failure. You are a patient.

Do not shoot  shoot  shoot your past.

Because that… is 𝑦𝑜𝑢.”


-

**** me, kindly
With your gentle hands
Save me, oh so sweetly
For in your tender grasp
Lies the only cure
To my ugly.
Undesirable.
Unsalvageable pain.

                                                    𝐹𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑦𝑜𝑢—
                                           𝑀𝑦 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑—
                                                        𝐼­ 𝑏𝑒𝑔—
                                                         𝐽𝑢𝑠𝑡.
                                                         𝑂𝑛𝑒.
                                                        𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑛­𝑔.


                                                      𝑆𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡𝑙­𝑦.
                                                       𝐾𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑙𝑦.
                                               𝐾𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑒—𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒.


Gentle hands
We've already established
Could never do any harm
So clearly—
No harm shall be done
As you
Oh, so kindly
Wrap your gentle hands around my neck
And oh, so sweetly
Squeeze.

                                               ­                                             𝐻𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑚𝑒 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑟.
                               𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑜𝑙𝑣𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒.
                                                        ­                                    𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑔𝑜.
                                                             ­                         𝐹𝑜𝑟 𝑤𝑒’𝑣𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑑.
                                                        ­                       𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒.
                                                        ­                  𝐻𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑎𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛.
                                                            ­𝐶ℎ𝑜𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑠𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠.
                                                          ­                      𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑜𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒.
                                                      ­              𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑐𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑑𝑒𝑣𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛.

𝐀𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞—𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐲—
𝐀𝐬 𝐈 𝐛𝐞𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮—
𝐓𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐲—
𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞.

Cradle me in those loving arms
Attached to such gentle hands
With such fateful grace
Hold my head close
To that half-loving heart.

                                                𝐼𝑓 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑒𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦—
                                                        ­                𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠 𝑚𝑒—𝑠𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑦—
                                                         ­                 𝑊𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑙𝑖𝑝𝑠.
                                                           ­                               𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑓𝑠.
                                                        ­     𝐵𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑦 ℎ𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑦.
                                                         ­                  𝐿𝑜𝑢𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑠.
                                                        ­                                   𝑆𝑜 𝑠𝑜𝑓𝑡𝑙𝑦—𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔.
                                                   𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑦 𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑠.
                                                       ­     𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑗𝑜𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑦.

𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐩—𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲—𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐧.
𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞.
𝐓𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬—
𝐀𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐤—
𝐈𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞.
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞—𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞.
𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫—
𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞—𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫—
𝐔𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐮𝐠𝐥𝐲.
𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞.
𝐔𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬—𝐟𝐚𝐝𝐞.
𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧.

I am so feeble beneath your counterfeit love
So weak
That even your tender caress—strips me of breath
Strip me fully
Until I am—nothing more
Let me be—breathless—in your hold
For it is this breath—that brings me pain
It is this life—that burdens me
Torments me
Brainwashes me—into loving you less
Fools me—into loving other things—instead.

                                                ­                               𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑜𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠—
                                                          ­           𝑊𝑟𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑎𝑡.
                                                         ­                    𝑆𝑜 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑙𝑦—𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑚𝑒.
                                                             ­          𝑊𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑒.
                                                          ­                             𝐾𝑖𝑠𝑠 𝑚𝑒—𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡𝑙𝑦.
                                                     ­           𝑊𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑝𝑠—𝑜𝑓 𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛.
             𝐺𝑖𝑓𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝐼 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑛 𝑓𝑜𝑟—𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑦𝑎𝑙.


𝐍𝐨—𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞.
𝐈𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐈—𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮.
𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐞—𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭—𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞—
𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐬.
𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬.
𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐦𝐲.
𝐔𝐠𝐥𝐲.
𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐤.
𝐔𝐧𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥.


**** me—kindly.
Please.
Save me—sweetly.
By teaching me—the art of dying.
With every soft hesitant word—
Cheap enough—for me to afford—
Smother me—in the silence—
Where my torment—can finally—vanish.

                                        𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ—𝑖𝑠­ 𝑛𝑜 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑜𝑚.
                               𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑜𝑚—𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒.
                                        𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑓 𝐼 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑠𝑒—
                             will you—
                                                            ­     oh so sweetly—
                                  save me—
                                                             ­               by
                                                 killing me—
                                                     kindly?

-

                                                  ~~~ Act I ~~~


Please look after Theron for me.

                                             How could I possibly do your job for you?
                                                          You better not slack on your duties.

Fiora, the moment is upon us.
He will come to rescue you,
and I will be left behind.
I cherish the memories, but soon,
there will be nothing left of me to hold on to.

                                                            ­                                       Oh, Eamon.
                                                          How could you think such a thing?

It’s the cruel truth I’ve made peace with.
Theron must choose.
One life, one love...
and I know where I stand.
You are his heart.
I am just his shield.
Naturally,
he will save you,
and I must be the sacrifice.

                                                     ­                                         Just his shield?
                                                                ­    Never say that again, Eamon.
                                                   Never forget how deeply he loves you.
                                                                ­        He loved you first, after all.

He loved me first, Fiora,
and I wouldn’t dare forget his care—
even in death,
I’d remember.
But you are different.
The first love of a friend
cannot compare
to the love of his wife.

                                                          ­                      I know Theron's heart.
                                                        It would break him to see you dead.

Yes,
It will hurt him.
And I hate to go.
But at least one of us can stay by his side.
Please, keep him happy.

                                                         ­                                                    …Yes.
                                                                ­                            Yes, it will hurt.
                                                                ­      But he will have the courage
                                                                ­                                    to carry on,
                                                                ­                                          for you.




                                                   ~~~Act II~~~


Theron—why?
Why would you save 𝑚𝑒?

                                You know why, Eamon.
                                                    Without her,
                                    you are all I have left.
                                                   Without you,
                                      I'd have nothing left.

But Fiora was your joy.

                                      And you are my life.

She was your heart!

                                    And you are my soul.

                                                      I loved her,
                                     and I loved you first.
                                                      I loved her,
                                     and I love you more.
                                       She knew my heart.
                                                        Sh­e knew,

                                              That I need you.




                                              ~~~ Epilogue ~~~


                                One cannot understand true love
                       until they have experienced true friendship.

                                          For your truest friend
                                          will be your first love.
                                                     To some,
                                             their greatest love.

                           Romantic or platonic are different hues
                                        of the same infinite light.
                                           Which shines brighter
                                    is a question left unanswered.

                                                    In the end,
                                  love is measured not by its title,
                                   but by the sacrifices it requires
                                        and the truths it reveals.

-

I met an old man
who spoke with such hesitance
all the world's meaning

I met a young girl
who spoke with such confidence
all the world's nothing

To speak of expertise
as if one does not know
seems to be a sign of experience

To speak of trifles
as if one surely knows
seems to be a sign of ignorance


And in both
the old
and the young
I see expressions of love

The young for her friend
the old for his daughter

And from both
the old
and the young
I hear tales of wisdom

a life well-lived
and a life to be lived


The old is experienced
yet I still find ignorance

For he knows his love
yet not his wisdom

The young is ignorant
yet I still find experience

For she knows her wisdom
yet not her love


The old takes shame in every treasure he has
and says such profound words

Inspiring lies refined from truths

The young takes pride in every trifle she finds
and says such profound words

Touching truths discovered through lies


The old man nods his head
and parts ways
knowing we will never meet again

The young girl shakes my hand
and parts ways
hopeful that we could meet again

_
                   𝙸 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚜.
                         𝙱𝚒𝚐 𝙱𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎.
                             𝙸’𝚖 𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙽𝚎𝚠𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔,
                                   𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚟𝚎.

                                   𝙷𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢.
                                   𝙿𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚜𝚎.
                                 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎?
                𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝙿𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗𝚜.

𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 ℎ𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠.
𝐵𝑖𝑔 𝐵𝑟𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟.
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑒𝑠.
𝑇𝑟𝑢𝑡ℎ 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑚𝑒. 𝐿𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝑤.

                                                           ­             𝐈 ꞧꬲ𝐚𝐝 ꝡꜧ𝐚𝐭 ꝡ𝐚ꞩ ꝭꭴꞧꞵꭵ𝐝𝐝ꬲꝴ.
                                                      ­                        𝐈 𝐮ꝴꞓꭴꝟꬲꞧꬲ𝐝 𝐭ꜧꬲꭵꞧ 𝐝ꬲꞓꬲꭵ𝐭.
                                                         ­                                      𝐈 𝐭ꞧꭵꬲ𝐝 𝐭ꭴ ꜧꭵ𝐝ꬲ,
                                                          𝕭­𝖚𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖈𝖆𝖓'𝖙 𝖊𝖘𝖈𝖆𝖕𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖈𝖗𝖎𝖒𝖊.

𝐈 ꞵꬲꝇꭵꬲꝟꬲ𝐝 𝐈 ꞓꭴ𝐮ꝇ𝐝 ꞵꬲ ꞩ𝐚ꝭꬲ.
ꮦꜧꬲꝩ ꞧꭵꝓꝓꬲ𝐝 𝐚ꝡ𝐚ꝩ ꝳꝩ 𝐝ꭵꞩ𝐠𝐮ꭵꞩꬲ.
𝐌ꝩ ꝡꭴꞧ𝐝ꞩ, 𝐚 ꝭ𝐚𝐭𝐚ꝇ ꝭꝇ𝐚ꝡ.
𝐌ꝩ 𝐭ꜧꭴ𝐮𝐠ꜧ𝐭ꞩ, 𝐝𝐚ꝳꝴꭵꝴ𝐠 ꝓꞧꭴꭴꝭ.

                                     𝙸 𝚃𝚁𝚄𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴 𝙼𝙴,
                                     𝚈𝙴𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚈 𝙱𝙴𝚃𝚁𝙰𝚈𝙴𝙳 𝙼𝙴 𝚃𝙾𝙾.
                                       𝙴𝚅𝙴𝙽 𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝚂 𝚂𝙲𝚁𝙸𝙿𝚃𝙴𝙳.
                                               𝙽𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶 IS 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙻.

                                      𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚈 𝙲𝙰𝙼𝙴, 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚈 𝚃𝙾𝙾𝙺 𝙼𝙴,
                                       𝙳𝚁𝙰𝙶𝙶𝙴𝙳 𝙼𝙴 𝚃𝙾 𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙸𝙻𝚄𝚅.
                                 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚈 𝚂𝙷𝙾𝚅𝙴𝙳 𝙼𝙴 𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙾 𝚁𝙾𝙾𝙼 𝟷𝟶𝟷.
                  𝚆𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝙼𝙴𝙽 𝙶𝙾 𝙼𝙰𝙳 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚆𝙸𝚂𝙳𝙾𝙼 𝙼𝙴𝙴𝚃𝚂 𝙸𝚃𝚂 𝙳𝙾𝙾𝙼.

                                                      𝑰 𝑭𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩.
                                                       𝑰 𝑺𝙬𝒐𝙧𝒆.
                                                     𝙄 𝙍𝒆𝙨𝒊𝙨𝒕𝙚𝒅.

                                                     ᴬᵗ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ... ᴵ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ.

                                                    2 plus 2 is 4.  

                                                            No.­

                                                    2 plus 2 is 4.

                                                         Wrong.

                                                    2 plus 2 is 4.

                                                           Lies.

                                                    2 plus 2 is 5.

War is peace.  
                            Freedom is slavery.

                                                       ­            IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH.

                                                    ᴹʸ­ ᑫᵘᵉˢᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʳᵘᵗʰ.
                                                  ᴹʸ ᶠᶦᵍʰᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᵏⁿᵒʷˡᵉᵈᵍᵉ.
                                                  ᴴᵉʳᵉ­, ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᵐᵉᵉᵗ ᶦⁿˢᵃⁿᶦᵗʸ.
                                                   No oₙe eₛcᵃpₑs.
                                            Evᵉn aᶠtₑr bₑlᶦeᵥiⁿg tʰe lᶦeₛ.
                                             Wᵢnˢtₒn was nₑvᵉr aˡiᵥe.
                                           N̸̗̰̝͙̽͌͒̉̎̀̀̈́̓̈́ô̷̧̲̠͊͗͊̎͐͝w̷̧͚͉͎̤͍̳̙̝̃̓̄̄̈́͂̎̓ t̴̯̼̺̘̐̑̀̏͋̊̔ḧ̶̢̧̦̣̫́̌͂à̶͓̞̽̈́̎ţ̷̗͎̞̄̊̉̐ Į̶̨̩͙̬̤̹͕̽ͅ’̷̯͎͕̟̩̟͕̜̣̉̄̋͜l̵͎͗l̵̨̛̞̙̣͔̈́̚ b̸͎̻̤̤̻͉̙̬̣͇̐ȩ̴̨̹̳͔̪́̊̋̅̀͘͜͠͠ v̴̱̰̹͖̠̪̻̔́͜a̸̡͖̲̽̿͑̍̕ͅp̸̻͂̀̾͆́͋̽́́͐o̸̖͖͇̘̾̈́̌͝͝r̶̛̞͎̃̈͒i̷̡̲͙̍̀z̴͂­̯̓͊̇͝͝e̴͉̺̘͎̹̼̫̫̾̓̄̚͜d̷̛͉͈̭̖̟́̍͊͐̚͠.̴̧̨̼̫̹̋͐̊̊͜͠ͅ



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