The youngPoet wasagain dragged before the Magistrate. Scars showed on his illusion thin arms where the chainshad bitten his flesh.
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"Poor Poet, it seems I erred in commanding that you be starved. I grant your release and invoke your exile from my land. Pray, don't think me cruel for having been mistaken."
The Poet spoke softly, "You took me from my home, imprisonned me, starved me and now you free me on condition of exile. How am I to think you other than cruel?"
"Do not be harsh Poet - what I did I did for you, It was not malice but love that fastenned the chains."
"If that is the case, dear lady, I should have prefered malice."
"Such venom Poet, toward one who loved you enough to have wanted you spared a lifetime's agony is hateful and unkind. Please Poet be not so cruel as you think me."
"Would that I could think you cruel. Would that I could hate and curse you but I can not. The scars I bear will bea testament to my labour and your kindness."
"The things you say, each word tears through me like chain-shot. Yoiur every whisper is witchcraft. Pray Poet, speak no more."
"For you I toiled, for you I lost the sun and felt my body waste. For you I abandonned my native land. For you I did this and for you I shall be the Poet no more - as you wish."
With that the young poet gathered his rags about him and walked into oblivion without a backward glance.
Did a tear flee the magistrate's eye as he passed through the door?Who is to say?
But would I be a good Messiah with my low self-esteem? / If I don't believe in myself would that be blasphemy? - The Bloodhound Gang Hell Yeah