The precarious nature of the beast.
There once was a man who identified as a dog. A dog that looked at the world like a cat. This cat was busy trying to be a fish. This fish was busy trying to be a man.
They were very sad for it was them that labelled each other strange for the confusion it was causing it.
The precarious nature of the beast.
Is such that when they look in the mirror they do not see themselves for what they truly are. The eyes from their mind does not allow them to discern the truth but their truth fed by the anything and anyone. Lest they are lead astray by the truth.
The precarious nature of the beast.
They shout and scream like like little babies. Chucking their fists in the air. Bawling like there is no care. Their ragged voice at the top of their lungs wanting to be heard. Their message clear. There is nothing there.
