Devotion

The hurt in me. It can never be measured, never at all. I know I should channel this hurt into some useful energy, but I can’t bring myself to do it. All I know now is to wallow in my own sins, in the vices of the mortals. Some time later, perhaps I would pick myself up. Pick up the pieces…

What should I do? Wait by the shadows quietly and be a guardian of the night? Perhaps that should be my option..The rose will serve to remind me of my one true love, my utter devotion.

Your servant
Aristocrat


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