Walking slowly to not conjure the beasts that lurk by my path. I know these beasts, initially encountered as the wolf in sheep’s clothing. Bearing a bloodied coat shed by their former victim, passing the wounds off as their own. Preying on a bleeding heart’s desire to heal, only to capture and devour. Lowering my head to the growls, running blind, running scared. I’ve absorbed the tremors in my soul, swallowed my pride and have been led slowly to unforgiving depths of an icy cold pit. Deep inside, a fire burns within me, poorly kept and suffocating but existing. Under layers of ash, behold the embers still grasping for life. Slowly they will breed one to another and will once again be revived. The beasts always retreat in the light and fear the burn. 

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