December 21, 2011
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Through the trees and over the hills, Locked in a prison cell is where he lay.
For eternity, that's what they all say.
I hope he rots and his misery will smell of his wicked crime.
I wonder if his filthy hands hold the cold bars of that cell or if he cries every night.
The visual sight of his sneering face is forever sealed inside my mind.
His voice is like screeching metal to a hammer, and all his dreams are gone.
While he's there, I'm back at home.
Reminiscing on the past that shouldn't be.
Tasting those beverages, I never thought it would lead to someone so evil.
But those days are over,
I'm closer to closure.

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