Burnished Steel, degenerate.
Like the Man of La Mancha, my armor shows my weakness.
Confronted by the shields of mirror, but your realism grips not *mine* eye.
I am Heedless of your claim to value,
meaning is Indeterminate,
and truth holds only so far and long as its communication.
All I ever wanted was my freedom,
and pursuit in my friendships is my soul force of determination.
What know you of my dreams and nightmares?
I am complex systems and a conquerer of the intuitive unknown.
Do I not get to play too?
I have been everyone else for more days than you have seen.
What evil is there,
taking time to sliently peer at the strange garments I find myself wearing.
There is no thing I hide but that which lacks my concentration.
I am a verdant arrow, and a fool.
Innocent enough to subsist on dreams,
and, in lacking concentration, flagitious.
What you take for granted forces my reclusion,
and the values of independant adventures.
A wise man speaks in the tongue of fools,
but if you cannot also speak in the tongue of wise men,
you are a fool.
Is ignorance bliss?
I wield Reason. Emotion, my shield.
My battle, MY Deamons.
My reward, my potential.
Is hacking a path through the wilderness of necessary sustenance so unreal to you?
*puff
My thanatos; My punishment.
...my humiliation.
[ September 23, 2004, 10:09 PM: Message edited by: Percipere'Chan ]
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