Cryptid

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(D. k.)

All my life,
I've been told I have the problem of giving excuses for my actions.

Maybe it's true,
Maybe it's false,
I have no idea.

But I do know one thing for sure;
Good or bad,
I can no longer tell the difference.

You stalk me for my sins,
Making me look bad for my actions.
But in reality, all you did,
Was hold me back.

I can no longer give into to the satisfaction,
Of your judgemental self.
Making me seem the Villain of my own story.

There is an old saying that goes;
If you want to get rid of a problem,
Uproot it from it's root.
Believe me, I did not hesitate to cut you off.

I set you ablaze myself,
And watched you burn to ashes.
Grey dust particles,
dispersing into the wind.
That's all you're to me now, Conscience;

A cryptid.

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