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who knows he who tends to be nothing more than a one-eyed jack. Yes a cunning jester, a devil who enjoys to pester those who believe themselves as Aces, Kings, and Queens. I am the traitor that houses no clubs, no spades and no hearts, for the house that believes to dare bet against black. For you see what they lack is the conviction, or proper diction that would allow them to speak as if lucifer was kindred Oh what a treat to think you can topple this house of cards; this little diamond who has made the queen bow to her knees and forsake her king. But i am not a beast but a simple dealer who heard that you tried to go all in without realizing the price that would be demanded, for you pushed for double or nothing failing to realize just who has all the cards, what a shame that you came to my house to play my game and in the end, ended up no better than the others who dared to get in my way. yes just another suicide king who was to anxious to utilize that blade

Do you want to become part of my symphony my elegy my harmonious nocturne that bleeds forth the rhythm of my heart forever beating in time with the cries of the many souls who i deemed worthy enough to become one with me. A painting of exquisite beauty, an image that transends both texture and imagery. Oh, wouldn't it be wonderful to be a single shade or knit in this goddess's tapestry. Tell me what dreams coat your mentalscape as you try your best escape the pains and weariness of your reality? Do you see yourself as a simple sheet of my composition or do you see yourself being put in a better position, or chair to where you can take the lead, and not just be seen as part of life's symphony.

They say she of the moon has no other lover then those who howl and bless her with their cries of loyalty. They say that she dreams of nothing more than her children who were blessed to her by a demon who's inccubitic smile would drive her senses into a heated frenzy that would not cease till both were bloody and panting on the palace floor. Many rumors have circulated around and about she who dwells upon the abyssal face of her lovely luna, yes she who heeds to no other, but he whose identity is only know by the lycan children who he raised. But maybe if you listen closely you will hear my lovely lapin bride screaming my name, as she bares fangs and swallows my heart allowing me to become one with her

They told me to leave be and let die to stop spinning my wheels and let the sweeping tide leave nothing but the memories of those ventures once had both good and bad. Is it possible that i wanted one more chance to redeem a past that never seemed to end on a note worthy of staining ones cortex? That i wanted to smash one last box just to see the fruits of my labors? Yes before i could only dream that my popularity for fly high one last time to prove that those decades long gone were not a fluke. That i could be like that spyro guy and become that icon i once was. And yet as i stand here alone with no other hope than to go forward into the unknown i recall how you became more than a one- trick pony how you showed all how a story could bridge the gap and create something now known as a brony? I don't quite get it myself but if dreams can come true, then there is nothing left to do than to take the plunge and hopefully one day i can stand tall and recall the day that i became a

the harmony of equality blend together seamlessly like the melody of the piano keys. Treasuring the symphony of what it means to embrace one another as something more than just friends but lovers on a scale that is beyond the simple schematics of what humanity is willing to accept as a truth that had been denied for centuries. When you sit here with me i see one who is not just a part of me, but a part of the world, a part of history. The missing part of this music sheet that lacks the accents, the sharps and flats that bring interest and joy to life once seen as basic and plain, but i don't want you to think yourself as just my escape from the mundane... no, my friend you are in a musical sense, the rhythm to my blues, the hip that comes before the awaited hop, and i dare say that dirty boi that is always willing to accompany my idealistic pop. Right now you are most likely laughing at the terminology of the following, but in the end nothing really matters except the fact that