For Thy Peace, My Soul

45.

Though I shoulder the foulest, darkest, most evil of deeds and wickedness of thought any human can conjure, I have also witnessed abject selflessness and willful caring as any who walks the long path.

My observations burn and stir the rancor of those who cannot bear such purity of spirit. Their pain becomes mine, but I embrace it. How rare and sweet such a flower in the cesspit. They are the pinpoints of light in the darkness, the silent offered hand when all have fallen away.

Quickly arriving, quickly departing as if untethered ghosts in the wind.

Not even the likes of Freddy can grasp them.