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Poetry by Charles Moffat
Oh, deep seeded hatred from inside, And the anger of my wretched pride, They pull me with desires I will not abide. I can feel the evil under my skin, That layer of flesh that hides my sin, And all my chaotic madness that lies within. I am the time bomb that is quietly ticking, That longs for the glory of pain and suffering, That desire for blood on my hands is sickening. We all desire the freedom of this madness, To pursue screams that betray a victim's sadness, Such goals hide weakness from the world's harshness. |