Damoen's Soliloquy

Everything here built and made up of some fake supremacist
it interest me to see that everyone believe this is staged, but by all means your easy to drift in your imagination
as so am i....
none of my intelligence appears to be aware or noticeable in my spoken words,
contorted,
perplexing,
jumbled,
in an amid distinction of everything just as it is was misplace on purpose by god...
not to torture me ,but o teach me sure values, of a fortitude needed,
some believe I don't even understand words...
silly isn't it.
more sillier than when they believe I don't understand the words i speak,
or them not knowing what they mean,
to me when spoken.

a mind so negative, no wonder the other angels hate me.
an Hecate that protrude dame...
why find somethings so perfect or to be negative on the other end. every single step we take
is made out of raw material,
just like us, made out of clay says Zeus,
the false god, the humans believe in.
preternatural by nature is a excuse used by human beings, just to be an distraction by their savage behavior,
so what is excuse,
is  that am to evil, who i am by how i say it or is to be or not to be when fake it.
god has indeed tortured me well in these past few moments.
leaving me to question on an on my thoughts.
The limbo soliloquy. where all the philosophers rot....
Dante warned Meso.
that all works of material is raw by nature
so much time needed to be taken to understand,
and yet so blame.
so much to fix in these lies, i feel trapped by them being so profane.
and there not a sane thing left in me
there is only a matter of ignorance that can stop me. and it takes a good demon to pull that out,
someone like me, some one like Jesus
someone like his inner Satan... the dark side of the light one
there is a matter of when these walls of faith will cave in
not these walls, though they look id imagine,
a fort of material made by perfect character
the ones I talk of.
lies willingly in the  support beams of of thy's mind. A matter of the pure issues. Things seem to find no account to me,
but by soon a storm is converging.
the wind blows and rises...
the caves  do do come in..
and so do all of everyone's failure i promise them all a step demise,
by the capabilities if their disbelief,
something so distinguished by my property and exceeding effort of time
for maybe the time is an oath of death of what he surely wish to give and relinquish in its death
later the issue become
the death of their time and ours
our time to the seclusion of the nightmares
be this thesis my enemy... Arcete be soon seated, dead in his grave
and your wife Elliot
very lively hood smitten.