I’ve walked in circles, I’ve lost my way a long time ago. Its delusional to think this journey was meant to be, while taking shelter under the weeping willow. I have secured hostages; I have taken pleasure in murdering inflated egos in this detour of distractions and it has brought me further away from my grieving widow.

The whores still stand though not for long; the fat one sings with the voice of a gilded eunuch while the vain little prick with his Back torn into shreds like the wimp that he is, limps off the battleground. With his pit-bull bitch of a Dowager hot on his heels from the scent of infidelity, one must wonder when the Puppet King will fall from the throne into the jaws of his beloved hell-hound.

Pray, stay a while longer and keep me company I beg of you… for in no time soon, the little vain man will be stranded in a ring full of hungry boars waiting for supper to be served; the Puppet King will find himself castrated and without a throne; the fugliest concubines you’ve ever seen will prove their intellect poorer than a retarded idiot when it is time to take off their heads and the over-fed slug will ooze lard and slime when his innards spill forth… but no words can save the dead from dying.

…And the Jester Child will sit upon the liar’s tomb… giggling at the snuff movie she just made.
The beast was here all along…

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