Today, I executed a man, not in the stark light media often displays, But a quiet, introspective demise: my former self was slayed. Gratitude is present, yes, but let’s be honest— damn that mess. Healing in the darkness requires a heart stout and bold in distress.
My appetite wanes amidst contemplative thoughts, letting spirals unwind, My Bible, a solace, whispers sweet symphonies when vision’s maligned. I clutch my spirit near, bracing for a journey wild and sheer. I knew, even before earthly footsteps, that the path here was clear.
Being great means seeing, unlocking visions with a key so keen, Your understanding of pain might be surface; mine’s an abyss unseen. On June 27, 2023, he passed, that man of old, away from the spree. Alchemizing, unbeknownst to others, I was conserving my sacred energy.
Protecting peace, swallowing pride, casting away what no longer stands by my side. Healing reveals itself, recognizing my worth, a journey both wild and wide. Hear this decree, a declaration from new-found liberty: A man perished tonight, and indeed, that man was the old me.