He didn't enjoy violence; It disgusted him. It was something theworld could do without. Of course, that didn't mean for a second that he wasn’t going to do it. It was the only way to save Her beauty; She would understand.The steel chills his palm. One half knowledge; One half death. His hands did not lie. This illusion of Happiness. Is Love. Is Love. So in the end he wrote her a Poem without words. He painted her a picture with Crimson. A look in the mirror. She would understand. He didn’t enjoy violence; That didn’t mean for a second;That he wasn’t going to do it.
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