CarlitoPortingale

Cursed be the day I was born.Much like Bellerophon,I wander away from Humanity and the Populace,likewise do I from myself, and, as Aeneas,I too sense a persecution and am hunted by a hostile invisible force. I'm of no nation,though born in one. Apatride, the whole world I embrace,yet nothing I grasp. And so I tread some path hoping for Mars, Dr.Manhattan's peace-bearer dame.

Wonderfully,on Love, humans do seem masochists,as they enjoy the torture of it. Humans see and think upon all they see: they see the departure of whom they love, at times theirs first, yet they keep the flame burning for as long as they can, or, perhaps, it's Cupid that captures'em. Whatsoever't may be, Ausonius says of Jupiter who saw his sons's death,Sarpedon,"he also suffers grief who can prevent it".The same can be said of Humans:To interweave hands with someone is also to knowingly wait for death, our and theirs, yet we do not prevent it.

Searching for something, which I don't know nor can find γνῶθι σεαυτόν


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