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It is a scourge, a curse,
A pestilence, a cancer.

Where once it grew
In leaps and bounds,
Magical in every way
Like Jack’s magic beans.

Now it festers
In devastating fashion
An untreated infection spreading
Its tendrils of corruption.

There can be no end,
No relief in sight,
No rest for the wicked,
The heartbroken, the slighted.

It is not hate,
Nor is it love.
Nothing so pure.

No. It is an abomination,
A detestable mutant, its
Sheer existence mocking creation.

All that was good,
All that was holy,
Everything once held sacred.

This flame,
A raging inferno,
A veritable bonfire,
Burning, consuming,

The path we once trod,
All that remains,
Lies now in tattered shambles
Nary a hope of redemption
Unforgiving, uninviting, impassable.

We can’t go back
You and I.

Our story has ended
Buried in the sands of time
The good, the bad, the inevitable.

What has been said
Can no longer be justified
What has been done
Can no longer be remedied.

Excuses grow old, arguments
Tired. Rehashing pointless.
All angles exhausted
The vicious cycle broken.
Nothing more to be said.

No more.
Don’t come on back.

It is time you lived
With your