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Tell me again where to find joy. What else can I see but misery and suffering? My experiences cannot refute it. I hold the evidence of it in my shaking hands, in the empty chambers of my sputtering heart. What little hope I had of it ripped out before my very eyes.

I can only cry when it rains. Those false tears from the weeping heights to muddy the dust on my face. Heaven weeps as I cannot. I curse the stars! The smithy who wrought my eternal heartbreak!

I would rip my agony from this flesh!

Suddenly, there’s Fredrick with me. I hate him more than ever, yet I cannot hate him more than I love him.

For Thy Peace, My SoulWhere stories live. Discover now