Cage, Garden, and C***
They shape us. All of us; Gods today are real; they walk amongst us.
His battlescarred torso torn apart from yet another failed attempt to become the werewolf. But a transformation has indeed occured. A collection of souls made solid. Pinnochio with no concience. A weapon for a God.
A prayer among theives and ingrates who haven't a clue of the sacrifice that has been made.
And as I watch, and weep-- my soul is torn apart and made anew. All questions answer, a ghost within a ghost.
A reverse rebirth has occured and my frozen vissage is healed.
With time, a friendship will end, and possibly a marriage-- but a memory, this memory-- will live on.
A white crow on black paper.
Let us be numb and last one more day.
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