Becoming The Demon
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03-05-2013, 05:24 PM
Becoming The Demon
This is going on in my head lately. It kind of started as a joke, but it spoke to me in a deeply visceral way, and I wasn't sure why until very recently. But now that I've figured it out, I want to express it here. Not necessarily because I'm looking for insight or support from my peers (in fact I'm sure few will find themselves wanting to lend support), but because talking about it makes it real. It makes it more than merely a concept by bringing it into the realm of tangible reality. Perhaps I'll find that talking about it is all I really need to do. Perhaps I'll find, instead, that talking about it makes it more of a requirement. Something which must be done for the sake of my emotions or my intellect or whatever deeply primitive drive is churning away within me; urging me toward this bizarre and unsettling endeavor. I can't be certain. But in the interest of catharsis, I'm going to talk about it openly.

Many of you know that I've taken the "crazy" leap of getting my lower lip pierced. Two labret studs placed in the space between the lip and chin; a kind of stainless steel soul-patch, if you will. The procedure was something I felt nervous about at first, and understandably so. Few (entirely sane) individuals would seek to have sharp implements stabbed through their muscle and flesh in the interest of adorning their bodies with shards of metal or bone. Mutilation is something we strive to avoid in most cases. (I’m ignoring the long history of body modification, which seems to suggest that our species pursues such things naturally) When an individual seeks to contort or injure their bodies, they are viewed as unhinged; somehow removed from the "normal" human condition. To an extent, this is correct. But as much as I pride myself on being well-written; it seems I've digressed.

When I sat down in that medical chair; watching my piercer, Aaron, sterilize his tools and unpacking his needles, I felt something which is only felt at certain intervals in an individual's life. I felt a sense of power. There was to be pain involved, yes, but I was consciously choosing to endure it, and that gave me power. My body was not born into this world with steel talons affixed to my lower lip, and in choosing to add something which was contrary to nature; I found power. And when finally I felt the piercing shrill of the needle as it skewered my flesh; piercing the muscle tissue below and emerging from the other side, twice, I felt not only power, but a sense of total liberation. A sense of leaping from a mountainous peak and freefalling into absolute freedom. The purest sense of potential at my front and the chains of reservation and fear left far behind. It was an exhilarating experience, and one who's gravity I did not fully comprehend until later; when I was afforded ample time for reflection. I became excited upon recollection, and I am becoming excited now just writing about it. I remembered how good it actually felt as it was happening; even if, at the time, I was not fully aware of it. When the needle entered my flesh and the pain shot through my nerves and flooded my cortexes, its cold, stainless tip also pierced something deep within me. Something dark. Something scary. Something spiteful and bitter. My hatred for my ex girlfriend; my anger at those who had oppressed me during my childhood; my resentment of myself for not having made an exit from this mortal plane when I once had the chance to; these things too were pierced and, to an extent, remedied by the painful alteration of my natural bodily form.

In the weeks and months since that experience, I've contemplated the nature of body modification. I've become fascinated by those who endeavor to stretch their earlobes to the size of saucers and implant various objects or substances underneath their skin to achieve a deformed and even monstrous appearance. While I once thought such individuals to be crazy or "fucked in the head"; I now view them as works of living art, and ponder what their modifications symbolize for them. I wonder what made them want - or perhaps need - to split their tongue down the center, or implant silicone beneath the dermis of their scalp to create reptilian ridges across their head. While the world judges them so harshly - as some have judged me for my rather tame decision to pierce my lip - I empathize with them, and wonder what sort of symbol they have become for themselves. Rick Genest, also known as "Zombie Boy", used the art of tattoo to transform his body into a living corpse. His reason? He battled illness as a child, and it left a mark upon his psyche. Becoming a walking skeleton was his way of taking control of his frequent brushes with mortality. It was therapeutic. Maria Jose Cristerna, also known as the "vampire woman", began altering her appearance (to a great extent) as a way to take control of her body - that which her abusive husband had previously taken away from her. It, too, was therapeutic.

There are many like these, and I would venture to guess that most - if not all - have a deeply personal reason for altering themselves in such disturbing and unthinkable ways. “Why would someone do that to their body?” people ask; often with an audible air of condescension. “Good luck finding a job looking like that.”

What such people fail to understand is that it’s not about fitting in or looking cool or even worrying about “getting a job” later on. It’s about a much deeper, much more personal experience. I do hate to use this terminology in the company of my fellow non-believers, but in the purely poetic sense of the word: it is a truly spiritual endeavor. People taking control of their lives and reclaiming something they feel they have lost. That, in the grand scheme of human existence within the one life we’ll ever have, takes priority over what your friends, family, bosses, or anyone else might think of you. Without personal contentment, on your terms, there is no reason to exist at all.

It is now, at this juncture in my life, that I feel a kind of calling; a voice on the wind which beckons as it signals to me that now is the time to begin my own spiritual journey. Though I may have lead an arguably conservative existence in my short time on this planet, my life has not been without its deep traumas; both witnessed from afar and experienced first-hand. While I was once a pure and hopeful soul, I have since been forced to turn my back on all that I once was in order to survive. I now embrace things which I once vehemently opposed, and even feared. I have become everything which I once despised and dreaded with a seemingly unshakable passion. I have become the very demon from which I used to flee in terror.

For this reason, I feel it’s rather fitting to manifest this transformation into a living symbol; one which will become the most literal interpretation of the “demonic” metaphor possible. With a pair of black talons curving from my chin, one could be forgiven for viewing them as a kind of metal goatee. This is where my idea originally took root; given that many Christian interpretations of demons or devils sport a sinister goatee on their chin. But it wasn’t until I was introduced to the concept of dermal anchors - specifically in the cranial region - that my idea really came to light within my consciousness. Placing two dermal anchors on either side of the upper portion of my forehead, I will be able to secure a pair of black (or perhaps stainless steel; depending on the available designs) demon horns in such a way so as to give the impression that they are protruding from my skull. With those in place, I would undertake the little-known, but widely-available procedure of having my ears cut and restitched in such a way that, upon healing, would make them pointed. Once that is complete, I would then tackle my least favorite part of the entire process; the splitting of my tongue down the center, creating a forked hydrostat with two independently moving parts - not unlike a lizard or snake. (Or demon, as context would have it) With all of the more expensive and painful aspects of the transformation complete, I would simply need to get my hands on a pair of “black out” contact lenses - lenses which would turn the entirety of my eyes into black, frightening orbs - and the demon will have become manifest.

I have no doubt that there are those who will judge this idea with the utmost criticism, and for that, I am prepared. All that is required to combat such opposition is a stern and sincere sense of apathy in regard to their distaste, and I have quite a firm grasp on that. Wink But again, all I’m doing here is making this idea public, and in doing so, making it something tangible. I’m test-driving the possibility to see if it really should be pursued. In the end, the only person who can make that decision is me.

Through profound pain comes profound knowledge.
Ridi, Pagliaccio, sul tuo amore infranto! Ridi del duol, che t'avvelena il cor!
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03-05-2013, 05:37 PM
RE: Becoming The Demon
(03-05-2013 05:24 PM)Misanthropik Wrote:  This is going on in my head lately. It kind of started as a joke, but it spoke to me in a deeply visceral way, and I wasn't sure why until very recently. But now that I've figured it out, I want to express it here. Not necessarily because I'm looking for insight or support from my peers (in fact I'm sure few will find themselves wanting to lend support), but because talking about it makes it real. It makes it more than merely a concept by bringing it into the realm of tangible reality. Perhaps I'll find that talking about it is all I really need to do. Perhaps I'll find, instead, that talking about it makes it more of a requirement. Something which must be done for the sake of my emotions or my intellect or whatever deeply primitive drive is churning away within me; urging me toward this bizarre and unsettling endeavor. I can't be certain. But in the interest of catharsis, I'm going to talk about it openly.

Many of you know that I've taken the "crazy" leap of getting my lower lip pierced. Two labret studs placed in the space between the lip and chin; a kind of stainless steel soul-patch, if you will. The procedure was something I felt nervous about at first, and understandably so. Few (entirely sane) individuals would seek to have sharp implements stabbed through their muscle and flesh in the interest of adorning their bodies with shards of metal or bone. Mutilation is something we strive to avoid in most cases. (I’m ignoring the long history of body modification, which seems to suggest that our species pursues such things naturally) When an individual seeks to contort or injure their bodies, they are viewed as unhinged; somehow removed from the "normal" human condition. To an extent, this is correct. But as much as I pride myself on being well-written; it seems I've digressed.

When I sat down in that medical chair; watching my piercer, Aaron, sterilize his tools and unpacking his needles, I felt something which is only felt at certain intervals in an individual's life. I felt a sense of power. There was to be pain involved, yes, but I was consciously choosing to endure it, and that gave me power. My body was not born into this world with steel talons affixed to my lower lip, and in choosing to add something which was contrary to nature; I found power. And when finally I felt the piercing shrill of the needle as it skewered my flesh; piercing the muscle tissue below and emerging from the other side, twice, I felt not only power, but a sense of total liberation. A sense of leaping from a mountainous peak and freefalling into absolute freedom. The purest sense of potential at my front and the chains of reservation and fear left far behind. It was an exhilarating experience, and one who's gravity I did not fully comprehend until later; when I was afforded ample time for reflection. I became excited upon recollection, and I am becoming excited now just writing about it. I remembered how good it actually felt as it was happening; even if, at the time, I was not fully aware of it. When the needle entered my flesh and the pain shot through my nerves and flooded my cortexes, its cold, stainless tip also pierced something deep within me. Something dark. Something scary. Something spiteful and bitter. My hatred for my ex girlfriend; my anger at those who had oppressed me during my childhood; my resentment of myself for not having made an exit from this mortal plane when I once had the chance to; these things too were pierced and, to an extent, remedied by the painful alteration of my natural bodily form.

In the weeks and months since that experience, I've contemplated the nature of body modification. I've become fascinated by those who endeavor to stretch their earlobes to the size of saucers and implant various objects or substances underneath their skin to achieve a deformed and even monstrous appearance. While I once thought such individuals to be crazy or "fucked in the head"; I now view them as works of living art, and ponder what their modifications symbolize for them. I wonder what made them want - or perhaps need - to split their tongue down the center, or implant silicone beneath the dermis of their scalp to create reptilian ridges across their head. While the world judges them so harshly - as some have judged me for my rather tame decision to pierce my lip - I empathize with them, and wonder what sort of symbol they have become for themselves. Rick Genest, also known as "Zombie Boy", used the art of tattoo to transform his body into a living corpse. His reason? He battled illness as a child, and it left a mark upon his psyche. Becoming a walking skeleton was his way of taking control of his frequent brushes with mortality. It was therapeutic. Maria Jose Cristerna, also known as the "vampire woman", began altering her appearance (to a great extent) as a way to take control of her body - that which her abusive husband had previously taken away from her. It, too, was therapeutic.

There are many like these, and I would venture to guess that most - if not all - have a deeply personal reason for altering themselves in such disturbing and unthinkable ways. “Why would someone do that to their body?” people ask; often with an audible air of condescension. “Good luck finding a job looking like that.”

What such people fail to understand is that it’s not about fitting in or looking cool or even worrying about “getting a job” later on. It’s about a much deeper, much more personal experience. I do hate to use this terminology in the company of my fellow non-believers, but in the purely poetic sense of the word: it is a truly spiritual endeavor. People taking control of their lives and reclaiming something they feel they have lost. That, in the grand scheme of human existence within the one life we’ll ever have, takes priority over what your friends, family, bosses, or anyone else might think of you. Without personal contentment, on your terms, there is no reason to exist at all.

It is now, at this juncture in my life, that I feel a kind of calling; a voice on the wind which beckons as it signals to me that now is the time to begin my own spiritual journey. Though I may have lead an arguably conservative existence in my short time on this planet, my life has not been without its deep traumas; both witnessed from afar and experienced first-hand. While I was once a pure and hopeful soul, I have since been forced to turn my back on all that I once was in order to survive. I now embrace things which I once vehemently opposed, and even feared. I have become everything which I once despised and dreaded with a seemingly unshakable passion. I have become the very demon from which I used to flee in terror.

For this reason, I feel it’s rather fitting to manifest this transformation into a living symbol; one which will become the most literal interpretation of the “demonic” metaphor possible. With a pair of black talons curving from my chin, one could be forgiven for viewing them as a kind of metal goatee. This is where my idea originally took root; given that many Christian interpretations of demons or devils sport a sinister goatee on their chin. But it wasn’t until I was introduced to the concept of dermal anchors - specifically in the cranial region - that my idea really came to light within my consciousness. Placing two dermal anchors on either side of the upper portion of my forehead, I will be able to secure a pair of black (or perhaps stainless steel; depending on the available designs) demon horns in such a way so as to give the impression that they are protruding from my skull. With those in place, I would undertake the little-known, but widely-available procedure of having my ears cut and restitched in such a way that, upon healing, would make them pointed. Once that is complete, I would then tackle my least favorite part of the entire process; the splitting of my tongue down the center, creating a forked hydrostat with two independently moving parts - not unlike a lizard or snake. (Or demon, as context would have it) With all of the more expensive and painful aspects of the transformation complete, I would simply need to get my hands on a pair of “black out” contact lenses - lenses which would turn the entirety of my eyes into black, frightening orbs - and the demon will have become manifest.

I have no doubt that there are those who will judge this idea with the utmost criticism, and for that, I am prepared. All that is required to combat such opposition is a stern and sincere sense of apathy in regard to their distaste, and I have quite a firm grasp on that. Wink But again, all I’m doing here is making this idea public, and in doing so, making it something tangible. I’m test-driving the possibility to see if it really should be pursued. In the end, the only person who can make that decision is me.


I suggest you engage in emotional/mental therapy. Seriously.

You have an underlying emotional issue that is presenting itself in this bizarre manner. You have created a vision that is not a solution.

Skepticism is not a position; it is an approach to claims.
Science is not a subject, but a method.
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03-05-2013, 05:38 PM
RE: Becoming The Demon
(03-05-2013 05:37 PM)Chas Wrote:  
(03-05-2013 05:24 PM)Misanthropik Wrote:  This is going on in my head lately. It kind of started as a joke, but it spoke to me in a deeply visceral way, and I wasn't sure why until very recently. But now that I've figured it out, I want to express it here. Not necessarily because I'm looking for insight or support from my peers (in fact I'm sure few will find themselves wanting to lend support), but because talking about it makes it real. It makes it more than merely a concept by bringing it into the realm of tangible reality. Perhaps I'll find that talking about it is all I really need to do. Perhaps I'll find, instead, that talking about it makes it more of a requirement. Something which must be done for the sake of my emotions or my intellect or whatever deeply primitive drive is churning away within me; urging me toward this bizarre and unsettling endeavor. I can't be certain. But in the interest of catharsis, I'm going to talk about it openly.

Many of you know that I've taken the "crazy" leap of getting my lower lip pierced. Two labret studs placed in the space between the lip and chin; a kind of stainless steel soul-patch, if you will. The procedure was something I felt nervous about at first, and understandably so. Few (entirely sane) individuals would seek to have sharp implements stabbed through their muscle and flesh in the interest of adorning their bodies with shards of metal or bone. Mutilation is something we strive to avoid in most cases. (I’m ignoring the long history of body modification, which seems to suggest that our species pursues such things naturally) When an individual seeks to contort or injure their bodies, they are viewed as unhinged; somehow removed from the "normal" human condition. To an extent, this is correct. But as much as I pride myself on being well-written; it seems I've digressed.

When I sat down in that medical chair; watching my piercer, Aaron, sterilize his tools and unpacking his needles, I felt something which is only felt at certain intervals in an individual's life. I felt a sense of power. There was to be pain involved, yes, but I was consciously choosing to endure it, and that gave me power. My body was not born into this world with steel talons affixed to my lower lip, and in choosing to add something which was contrary to nature; I found power. And when finally I felt the piercing shrill of the needle as it skewered my flesh; piercing the muscle tissue below and emerging from the other side, twice, I felt not only power, but a sense of total liberation. A sense of leaping from a mountainous peak and freefalling into absolute freedom. The purest sense of potential at my front and the chains of reservation and fear left far behind. It was an exhilarating experience, and one who's gravity I did not fully comprehend until later; when I was afforded ample time for reflection. I became excited upon recollection, and I am becoming excited now just writing about it. I remembered how good it actually felt as it was happening; even if, at the time, I was not fully aware of it. When the needle entered my flesh and the pain shot through my nerves and flooded my cortexes, its cold, stainless tip also pierced something deep within me. Something dark. Something scary. Something spiteful and bitter. My hatred for my ex girlfriend; my anger at those who had oppressed me during my childhood; my resentment of myself for not having made an exit from this mortal plane when I once had the chance to; these things too were pierced and, to an extent, remedied by the painful alteration of my natural bodily form.

In the weeks and months since that experience, I've contemplated the nature of body modification. I've become fascinated by those who endeavor to stretch their earlobes to the size of saucers and implant various objects or substances underneath their skin to achieve a deformed and even monstrous appearance. While I once thought such individuals to be crazy or "fucked in the head"; I now view them as works of living art, and ponder what their modifications symbolize for them. I wonder what made them want - or perhaps need - to split their tongue down the center, or implant silicone beneath the dermis of their scalp to create reptilian ridges across their head. While the world judges them so harshly - as some have judged me for my rather tame decision to pierce my lip - I empathize with them, and wonder what sort of symbol they have become for themselves. Rick Genest, also known as "Zombie Boy", used the art of tattoo to transform his body into a living corpse. His reason? He battled illness as a child, and it left a mark upon his psyche. Becoming a walking skeleton was his way of taking control of his frequent brushes with mortality. It was therapeutic. Maria Jose Cristerna, also known as the "vampire woman", began altering her appearance (to a great extent) as a way to take control of her body - that which her abusive husband had previously taken away from her. It, too, was therapeutic.

There are many like these, and I would venture to guess that most - if not all - have a deeply personal reason for altering themselves in such disturbing and unthinkable ways. “Why would someone do that to their body?” people ask; often with an audible air of condescension. “Good luck finding a job looking like that.”

What such people fail to understand is that it’s not about fitting in or looking cool or even worrying about “getting a job” later on. It’s about a much deeper, much more personal experience. I do hate to use this terminology in the company of my fellow non-believers, but in the purely poetic sense of the word: it is a truly spiritual endeavor. People taking control of their lives and reclaiming something they feel they have lost. That, in the grand scheme of human existence within the one life we’ll ever have, takes priority over what your friends, family, bosses, or anyone else might think of you. Without personal contentment, on your terms, there is no reason to exist at all.

It is now, at this juncture in my life, that I feel a kind of calling; a voice on the wind which beckons as it signals to me that now is the time to begin my own spiritual journey. Though I may have lead an arguably conservative existence in my short time on this planet, my life has not been without its deep traumas; both witnessed from afar and experienced first-hand. While I was once a pure and hopeful soul, I have since been forced to turn my back on all that I once was in order to survive. I now embrace things which I once vehemently opposed, and even feared. I have become everything which I once despised and dreaded with a seemingly unshakable passion. I have become the very demon from which I used to flee in terror.

For this reason, I feel it’s rather fitting to manifest this transformation into a living symbol; one which will become the most literal interpretation of the “demonic” metaphor possible. With a pair of black talons curving from my chin, one could be forgiven for viewing them as a kind of metal goatee. This is where my idea originally took root; given that many Christian interpretations of demons or devils sport a sinister goatee on their chin. But it wasn’t until I was introduced to the concept of dermal anchors - specifically in the cranial region - that my idea really came to light within my consciousness. Placing two dermal anchors on either side of the upper portion of my forehead, I will be able to secure a pair of black (or perhaps stainless steel; depending on the available designs) demon horns in such a way so as to give the impression that they are protruding from my skull. With those in place, I would undertake the little-known, but widely-available procedure of having my ears cut and restitched in such a way that, upon healing, would make them pointed. Once that is complete, I would then tackle my least favorite part of the entire process; the splitting of my tongue down the center, creating a forked hydrostat with two independently moving parts - not unlike a lizard or snake. (Or demon, as context would have it) With all of the more expensive and painful aspects of the transformation complete, I would simply need to get my hands on a pair of “black out” contact lenses - lenses which would turn the entirety of my eyes into black, frightening orbs - and the demon will have become manifest.

I have no doubt that there are those who will judge this idea with the utmost criticism, and for that, I am prepared. All that is required to combat such opposition is a stern and sincere sense of apathy in regard to their distaste, and I have quite a firm grasp on that. Wink But again, all I’m doing here is making this idea public, and in doing so, making it something tangible. I’m test-driving the possibility to see if it really should be pursued. In the end, the only person who can make that decision is me.


I suggest you engage in emotional/mental therapy. Seriously.

You have an underlying emotional issue that is presenting itself in this bizarre manner. You have created a vision that is not a solution.

Somehow I knew you'd be among the first to reply. lol

You know I love ya, Chas. Smile

Through profound pain comes profound knowledge.
Ridi, Pagliaccio, sul tuo amore infranto! Ridi del duol, che t'avvelena il cor!
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03-05-2013, 05:49 PM
RE: Becoming The Demon
Pics or it didn't happen. Drinking Beverage



Also, you can't just go to a costume shop?



And,





You will also have to get sunburned as often as possible to complete the effect.

It was just a fucking apple man, we're sorry okay? Please stop the madness Laugh out load
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03-05-2013, 05:54 PM
RE: Becoming The Demon
Don't forget to record the experience for YouTube.

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03-05-2013, 05:54 PM
RE: Becoming The Demon
(03-05-2013 05:49 PM)Erxomai Wrote:  Pics or it didn't happen. Drinking Beverage



Also, you can't just go to a costume shop?



And,





You will also have to get sunburned as often as possible to complete the effect.

A costume shop would not provide the same effect, no.

Through profound pain comes profound knowledge.
Ridi, Pagliaccio, sul tuo amore infranto! Ridi del duol, che t'avvelena il cor!
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03-05-2013, 06:17 PM (This post was last modified: 03-05-2013 06:55 PM by Peanut.)
RE: Becoming The Demon
[Image: Rick-Genest.jpg]

[Image: tumblr_ltu9nerJGK1qm6231o1_500.gif]

Gaga Heart But look! She painted it on... It's still cool, even though she can just take it off.

*sigh*

You really DO have the apathy thing down.

WAIT! I do find it ironic that the video that he appeared beside her in was titled "Born This Way..." Consider

"It was life, often unsatisfying, frequently cruel, usually boring, sometimes beautiful, once in awhile exhilarating." -Stephen King
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03-05-2013, 06:24 PM
RE: Becoming The Demon
(03-05-2013 05:54 PM)Misanthropik Wrote:  
(03-05-2013 05:49 PM)Erxomai Wrote:  Pics or it didn't happen. Drinking Beverage



Also, you can't just go to a costume shop?



And,





You will also have to get sunburned as often as possible to complete the effect.

A costume shop would not provide the same effect, no.

I was trying to be sardonic. Dodgy

It was just a fucking apple man, we're sorry okay? Please stop the madness Laugh out load
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03-05-2013, 06:26 PM
RE: Becoming The Demon
(03-05-2013 06:24 PM)Erxomai Wrote:  
(03-05-2013 05:54 PM)Misanthropik Wrote:  A costume shop would not provide the same effect, no.

I was trying to be sardonic. Dodgy

The Sardons invaded my country and killed my family when I was a young boy. I didn't find it tasteful. Drinking Beverage

Through profound pain comes profound knowledge.
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03-05-2013, 06:38 PM
RE: Becoming The Demon
(03-05-2013 05:24 PM)Misanthropik Wrote:  It is now, at this juncture in my life, that I feel a kind of calling; a voice on the wind which beckons as it signals to me that now is the time to begin my own spiritual journey.

Might I suggest Hinduism. Instead of getting a little baby piercing here and a little pussy piercing there, once a year you go balls to the wall. Tongue

[Image: Thaipusam-Hindu-Festival-Piercings9.jpg][Image: religious1411.jpg]

As it was in the beginning is now and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
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