Aug. 2nd, 2009

[Decem]

I heard the chains rattle as the fetters, warm and heavy, fell away like dust fading into the abyss.

You never know how much room there is until you have the chance to stretch, and you never appreciate breathing fresh air until oxygen feels musty and sultry.

Pain is to know that you are still alive, still real, still human. Freedom tastes bittersweet.

He is gone, for now.


[Private to the Seven Sins]
The vacant seat may still be warm, but I am moving. You are either on my side, or you can hang on to your chains. The decision is yours.

June 2011

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