sábado, 28 de abril de 2012


This is what you get from studying for a 12th grade Chemistry test, while listening to Sonata Arctica and just getting out of a 15min break to read a few more pages of Frank Herbert's "Chapter House Dune"... You have been warned.

Stripped... Devoid of purpose.

Just like anyone should present themselves to their superiors.

The man stands at attention at his superior. Why is he superior to him? Why isn't it the other way around?

Life flashing before his eyes, a knife in his throat.
Expendable, unruly, therefore eliminated. And another day of work for the officer.
Now, his sheep would have to be herded, black ones killed. He sighed as he looked at his list: so many under his command, and many fools to terminate.

Yes, fools.

Fools for disobeying. Pity... a few of them showed some balls. That energy could be better redirected, but that wasn't his superiors' point of view.
Damnable, wonderful, idiotic, wise superiors.
They held the power, They held the cards, They rolled the die. He was a mere executor, a puppet in their hands.

Why wasn't it the other way around? Ah, yes, he too wondered that, but he wasn't as much of a fool as the others: he didn't voice such thoughts.
But those FOOLS(!) did, getting themselves killed, getting him to kill them...
Yes... he was a shepherd but the sheep weren't his.
They thought he didn't know of all of this but he knew. He knew that and more.
Damnable superiors. Foolish superiors. Fools must be terminated, such were his orders.

And thus, he walked out of his room.

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