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The Enemy

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It lives in all of us. Its there, waiting in the wings. It sits, watching, waiting for when your most vulnerable. It lets you believe its your friend but will turn on you any second. Its armed with not guns or bombs but tears and hatred. It attacks every now and then, not to win, but to completely posses you. If you let it take over for a few brief seconds it turns you into another being completely; a person who not only thrives on pain but knows no kind words. There is absolutely no retaliation, nearly no defense not from the enemy.

It is anger.



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