O Sleeper, Low In The Murk

Posted: February 16, 2015 in Uncategorized

The angry voices crowd the city square, the pitchforks and angry flames licking red tongues and black breath into the royal above. All have reached their wits end, all have climbed the last thread of rope, and so they arrive in this moment. Furious and aimless, they join together, as someone leads the crowd, steers them from street to street. In his visage, they have found the most capable of leaders, an agent of change. In his mind, he is the shepherd, leading a flock against the wolves. In the reality of the details, he is a murderer, with his own designs against the world he resents so, and has found himself merely willing and able to push through to the front of the line, to shout the loudest. And they have responded as he expected they would, so it must be so, that which he believes must actually be correct.

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