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by ThomasPGethin 

Posted: 26 November 2008
Word Count: 284
Summary: A short tale of two friends. One ineffectual, selfish and full of excuses, the other, suffering.

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To Whom It May Concern

You Sir, are a tiresome monstrosity.
You Sir, have poisoned this land with your
sorrow and loathing.
You Sir, have become consumed by this ordeal that you have beget upon your person.

You Sir, enjoy much wretched decadance.
You Sir, employ a simple brilliance.

You shall be united with me,
Danse macabre, dance with me.


Dear Sir

I can only apologise for my misgivings.
Excuses have saved me many times, yet there can be no justification for my latest sinful act, sinful deeds are, however, common place in my creation.
My soul bares no grudge, yet my heart is weighing heavy for the acts of my mind.

You loved me once, it has since been proved that the love we shared resided only in your imagination. Congratulations, you have been enlightened, there is nothing of me to love, nor want.

Unfortunately, anger often precedes my judgement, suffering and pain being my main influence. I bring to you no peace offering as nothing disturbes or thrills me more than my own degragation. Do not become frozen by my melancholy, without my suffering I would never truely appreciate the girth of my talents.

When will this indignity allow my virtues to shine?

I fear my low spirits may have consumed your very essence. Do not allow my narcissitic qualities to inconvenience your own nature. We can't all live as Dorian Gray, what would become of us? You must not listen to a silly old fool as me, I hold a weary heart, coupled with a wary mind. An oppressive combination, if you like?

It was a pleasure making your acquaintance.

Yours truly,


P.S. Eternal damnation shall answer my critics.

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