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This Metamorphosis

I wonder if there is a time where I can graduate from this madness.

I can see it.

There is another step where there is no need for my anger and lust.

It is, and so I am. Perhaps it is beautiful and necessary here. This demon’s skin, maybe I asked for it.

But how can I look where I am, bringing all of this momentum to a halt?

It is not in my nature to stop thus. Cursed as I may be, I still have that one gift,

given from these eyes forever looking before me.

There is a silver world where I can better see all else.

There I may be an old man.

Nay, it may just be tomorrow,

if only I could want it, truly want that peace.

I swear I’d quit the demons if only I wanted.

There is a holy tension here, but the gift of science questions it all.

Technique and form,

crystals.

My own flesh and and bones.

Blood can flow, or it can crash.

I sleep with the trees, I wonder if they feel the same.

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