Prophecy has it, you are no longer yourself.
But, a hollow, an unnamed identity
You do exist but you do not live.
As foretold, you are no longer complacent.
Though you believe you are simply divergent,
Everyone branded you the maleficent.
You became the ghoul that extracts joy
And resistance to ignominy you are not coy.
You became the demented or condemned.
Alas! You are no longer a wanderer
But a homeless, forlorn character
And you’ll meander in this cursed life forever.
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