I am a different person.
I am not controlling.
I am not quick to anger.
Few things make me angry.
I am not unnecessarily prideful.
I am not boastful.
I am not self absorbed.
I am not rude or blatant.
I am not him.
I am freeing.
I am kind.
I am somewhat generous and frugal.
I am peace-seeking.
I am gentle.
I am humble.
I am creative.
I am me.
Out of the ashes, I'm forced to rise,
Lest beings so vile gently coax me slumber.
They whisper and pull.
They shriek and they gouge.
Only two choices:
Make up your mind.
I could stay on my path
So warm with decay.
The smells of death and hatred pour from their smiles.
Fangs rip though my soft,
fleshy flank. The air grows cold,
Hostile.
Mere miles ahead, a figure turns slowly.
My face on the body
Of the very life-sucking thing.
Object of my lust-LOATHE.
I LOATHE their faces.
Their wretched writhing words.
Eyes like pits of ash.
I have to leave, have to pull myself up
By my own ankles since the trees have all died.
It's winter now, but soft as spring
Because I've murdered their spawn,
Those maggoty things.
Nothing left.
I've won.
I can rest,
But I have to move on.
One more step.
One more step.
Water is near.
