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Prelude Silently I wait for your proclamation against me, your balled fist at the ready. Hate turns inward, a dull knife stripping flesh from bone or an emaciated mongrel dog gnawing at my remains, with a listless eye watching for the inevitable onslaught of your next denigration, ready to slink away while dragging my corpse behind it, to wait for the day when I kill you as you lie sleeping. |
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