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Jul 2010
I will feed you falsehood, calling it callous desire - you seed me with false gods and blame me for a child I did not sire.

There are witches in your words, and they are burning down my holy places.

I look out across our boundless lake and sit upon a throne built from bones of the long since rotted carcass of my mistake.
C
Written by
C
651
     D Conors
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