There is nothing more to do.
I have torched the bridges between us all completely.
Nothing left to say. Nothing left to do.
Just take one last look while I ash my cigar, letting them fall on the ashes of the charred wood,
And keep moving my feet in a forward direction (choose carefully).
The obliteration complete,
The once flourishing green meadow is now brown and burnt,
Void of all life.
This is what I leave behind to the world.
This is my legacy.
Pain, suffering, hatred of my being,
All above are the strongest aspects of my identity.
All who have crossed paths with myself feel this given to them.
Love? Not here. Just a warm pistol of hatred and loathing.
There is still hope though, isn't there?
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