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One atrocity at a time, I murdered the man I wanted to be.
Nothing changed. No one talked of progress. No one dreamed of a better day. You lived your father’s life. You died your father’s death.
We are a mirror smashed on the floor, the sharp slivers put back together wrong, the reflection splintered and distorted. We stare at ourselves, both recognizing the face we see and yet knowing something is terribly wrong.
Each time I failed, I set the bar lower.
Anything that could be killed could be bargained with.
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