For want of a better name the Bully
by William P.J Hine
Sunday, November 17, 2002
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As I walk toward the thing I fear most,
My adrenaline rises,
I prepare my body to fight or take flight,
I feel its presence enveloping me,
Always there lurking in the shadows,
Why am I afraid of a so familiar place?
Because all it brings me is torment and pain.
Beings like no other haunt this place,
Malicious and vicious,
They feel no pain only deliver it,
They are the demons of this place,
Self appointed gods,
Worshiped only by themselves,
The building is made of shadows,
Every corner holds a new secret,
Someone's refuge is another's danger,
But pain is meaningless now,
This building holds all that was once dear.
Shattered on the cold marble floor of reality.
This is no mystical realm,
Or far away kingdom,
Not even a story,