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January 27, 2005
Arise my son, this place is not for you any longer
In this place, we stand gods, dealing judgment upon those who remain blind out of self-preservation
In this place, we stand aloft, overseeing the little pests scury about like cockaroaches in the light
In this place, we stand righteous, shuning what does not stand up to the weight of the BIITER, of our pain
In this place, we stand together alone, knowing when we leave this place the BITTER will always be waiting
In this place, we stand petrified, feeling so afraid of the BITTER's wrath breaking upon us
In this place, we stand honor-bound, stealing our tarnished broken pride to feel one moment of happiness and longing as one amongst our rank discards his robes and steps out from under the darkness to take his place elsewhere, to make room for the future, to leave the past where it's baried, to get on with it all....
To the only man I can justly call Father, Good Luck, and may the Gods be with you, for you will need more than one to keep from the BITTER's grasp.
So quoth Strange at 20:39 UTC
BITTER traces
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