The Mess I made

The Mess I made

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sat, Jun 11, 2022
A Bully, a murder I am.. I feel I'm taking after my own father.. the man people hate more than anything. 'what have I done' he whispered. In guilt looking at the dead body that hangs before him. He turns around only to see what looks like fear, pain.. sadness. All but one.. one face he recognized more than anything.. it was so far yet only a few feet away.. it was happy, proud of what hanged before Michael. He Was Proud. why?
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#178
aftons
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(This is the continuation of Not so perfect) This is his fault! What have I become? This body... my body... I just want to rest... I miss him so much. Why does it hurt so much even after 20 years? Michael, (son's name) and I have to end this. So we can rest. For Charlie. For Elizabeth. For Henry and all of those who had to die to get to this point. All of the children that die from monstrous murder machines clocked in childlike friendly. We must end this bullshit but where is the man that kept our lives kept in this foreverness. Unable to die fully die. Death after death. Unable to move on. Unable to let go. But does my heart weep for another? Do his words butter me up and fix my broken heart? Or is it all lies to get his way? What is (son's name) hiding within a wall of secret? Will our plans work? Or will the rest be always so close or be out of our grasp? As the man, who curse us to suffer in death, told me once 'enjoy the ride because it will be a long one.' I now understand what he meant. This game of life and death. But do I have the ability to stop my feelings from getting in the way of what needs to be done? I love him.

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