It always starts with them: people. Yes, people, them, others, entities that look like me, you thus I must control them; just like I control my own body, they look like me so they belong to me, standing between a he & a she, it doesn't matter; mine ! all mine !!
I'm not crazy. I'm not stupid. I'm not the filth of this earth, or the leftovers on a hearth's burning floor, no, I'm a king; a prince of my own domain which is the earth I walk, the stove I ignite, the hearth that has all of them look-a-likes; looking like me; taking what is mine and belongs to me !
How dare him, flirt with her? her is mine ! Mine me and only, to my glorious fun she belongs, in my domain, where I'm a king, and the rest should spend an eternity on the hearth's floor; didn't they know that she was mine? I'm that sick.
I'm a coward prince. Thus I make fun of people, trying to make them feel bad about themselves, so they might leave her without combat, indeed; I'm that pathetic. I will twist my face like an idiot, spend my nights making plans and plots to make him and her separate, and most importantly: I will drop some water on the citizens of the stove (which I filled with fires) so that idiots, in the heat of the place, would be fooled by my generous pathetic drops of water and forget my disgusting behavior.
I'm so sick. I'm so jealous. I hate to admit that this hearth is for everybody. Even them. I discover soon, that I too belong to the hearth.
I'm...I'm not a giant?
I'm a midget like them?
Inside the hearth?
Living in the stove?
They are not mine?
I twisted my face to make fun one of them because I was jelous !! what do I do?
Them crooked signs. Mazes, they don't lead out of the hearth; neither do they point deep below the earth; they only guide and give faith; to where I find out how little I'm, in the stove, in the hearth, just like everybody else, all having the right to bleed their ash, loving and all, down in the stove.
I'm not crazy. I'm not stupid. I'm not the filth of this earth, or the leftovers on a hearth's burning floor, no, I'm a king; a prince of my own domain which is the earth I walk, the stove I ignite, the hearth that has all of them look-a-likes; looking like me; taking what is mine and belongs to me !
How dare him, flirt with her? her is mine ! Mine me and only, to my glorious fun she belongs, in my domain, where I'm a king, and the rest should spend an eternity on the hearth's floor; didn't they know that she was mine? I'm that sick.
I'm a coward prince. Thus I make fun of people, trying to make them feel bad about themselves, so they might leave her without combat, indeed; I'm that pathetic. I will twist my face like an idiot, spend my nights making plans and plots to make him and her separate, and most importantly: I will drop some water on the citizens of the stove (which I filled with fires) so that idiots, in the heat of the place, would be fooled by my generous pathetic drops of water and forget my disgusting behavior.
I'm so sick. I'm so jealous. I hate to admit that this hearth is for everybody. Even them. I discover soon, that I too belong to the hearth.
I'm...I'm not a giant?
I'm a midget like them?
Inside the hearth?
Living in the stove?
They are not mine?
I twisted my face to make fun one of them because I was jelous !! what do I do?
Them crooked signs. Mazes, they don't lead out of the hearth; neither do they point deep below the earth; they only guide and give faith; to where I find out how little I'm, in the stove, in the hearth, just like everybody else, all having the right to bleed their ash, loving and all, down in the stove.
