he sat upon his throne,
weeping tar,
his hands crusty from the blood baked on to his skin,
at the foot of his throne,
his family and servants,
dead,
all dead,
slain by his foul hands,
many year later walking the world alone,
his hands staind by the darkness of the past....
to be continued? stare
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death is but life, no difference. no pleasure.
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emo_nation666
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