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The Boy Who Thought Himself God
When he spoke
his eyes were on me
While he is the tortured soul in Hell
that has been gone for so many years
his eyes were black
Not the beating summer midnights
but the darkness with nothing behind it
The chill trembling up my spine told me
that I was the one he wanted to tear apart bit by bit
that we were the ones that would bear the punishment for existing
outside of his body
if we were just a little closer to his gun
He told us that he was God
that the blood stains were justified by the divine light of Heaven
that he was a martyr for the men who were denied entrance
as if her body was an empty building to be filled only
by their hunger to possess what is not theirs
as if his loneliness was her responsibility
as if taking was the Holy Grail that would grant him eternal life
if he touched his lips to the crimson blood that filled it
mistaking it for wine
As if love wasn’t enough
When he laughed...
When he laughed
All I could think of was an empty building
How his whole being consisted of shadows and hate
Ironic that he spoke of loneliness
when he had created an absence in somebody else’s life
an empty space where their daughters and sons their sisters and brothers
their grandchildren, their nieces and nephews
would never again occupy except as ghosts
When his face was frozen on the screen
And we all hung in heavy silence
I realized that he was nothing
that he was no God
which is why I never
even wrote his name
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