Mondays can be Dark however never as dark as a Sunday. Bringing the blood thirsty beast out in the night. Calling her calling her away from me. Can it be Cant it really truly be? How strange how easy parts of us can be so easily rapped and stolen away from us? Where do these pieces go? Perhaps in a sepulcher next to our masters bed. Ah yes the master may choose the keep the dead pieces of they so wish to. Master what a thoughtful name for such a thief however so fitting. For if you allow one to take a piece of your inside meaningful or not you still have and there for they have mastered you. After no one has ever said one must like its master. Hell the Master doesn’t even have to feed. Owners are not always so sweet as you may wish. Sometimes they choose to let there own property die. To watch it burn from the inside out. Never a thought never even a question why.  To master a sheep you are a dog to master a dog you are a butcher and to master a butcher you are a boss to be worshiped by the strong and to eat the weak. Desire holds it close and fear keeps it closer, that is if you are smart. A dog will take his pray by force.  like all animals a dog is filth. If you are to be mastered by an animal of such filth as a Dog maybe you should burn. Maybe your ashes well smell better. A God is cunning and sly. A God will get what it wants before you even under stand that you are in the mouth of a monster. If you can look into the mouth of a monster and still with all your heart beg to sit by his side for worship then you are the butcher.

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