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A Warning

I feel your eyes on me constantly, piercing and salivating. My every movement is tracked, scanned for any sign of hostility or aggression.

Guys like you are weak individually, so the Law of Large Numbers becomes your superpower, the gigantic group your failsafe.

You hate me because I refuse to backdown, neglect to carry myself with pitiful timidity like the members of your little peanut gallery do when your alliance is reduced to its constituents come morning light.

The awakening sun reveals your weakness, dissolving your manicured threats and exposing your hollow hearts.

 None of you know real darkness, the abyss growling malevolently from the depths of despair, seeking to devour you every waking hour.

Your collective has no inkling of the paranoia and alertness that afflict you when you have to remain in fighting shape simply because survival requires it.

Eventually, you exist as iron and stone simultaneously, anything warm or gentle in your soul dying as it's iced and cemented over by harsh reality and unforgiving experience.

 Tonight, your friends saved you from swallowing your fucking teeth. Thank them, because Im beginning to come unhinged again.

Next time, you're dead. All of you.

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