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Oct 2010
He paused for a moment to rest

and thought that in a strange way,

he was executing a test,

his rage was growing high,

as he stared into the sky,

the ****** he commited was in fact a destiny,

and still more,

while the victim laid on the floor,

the foundation was made up of solid hatred,

a ****** to draw the eyes

and hearts of all men for all time,

he ignored the screams and cries,

then he wondered,

if in this state of madness,

it was the physical symbol of his faith,

killing was his traint,

one that he would face,

leaving behind a trace,

rough remnants that still clung to pure vision,

a vision not quite destroyed,

until he completed the attack,

then he begged for the darkness,

to spread his name, Jack
(c) Copyrighted 2010 By Frank F. Atanacio
Written by
Frank Atanacio
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