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The MonsterIf it so happened that I died tonight
Ended the pain, the loathing, the fights
Give into temptation, sweet bliss is here
No longer depression be something to fear
Ending the days of my useless existence
And the fruitless search for someone to listen
Gaining no ground on my pointless endeavour
Silence be reached, for now and forever
For years I have dealt with types of abuse
From verbal to physical, sexual too
Been beaten, molested, yelled at as well
Told I was going straight down to hell
Never have I been one of the masses
The one with braces, hand-me-downs, and glasses
Always been picked on, from childhood throughout
Learning nothing in time, but hatred and doubt
There is only so much a person can take
Straining and bending until they just break
Evolving into nothing but a shell
And if they just died, it'd be just as well
And here we reach a crossroads, my friend
Keep stumbling on, or just let it end?
This cycle is cursed to always continue
How much fight could you have left in you?
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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