I Hear the Falling Dawn


Useless and broken, they found his corpse on Boxing Day. His face was beaten beyond recognition. His transgression was the love he shared; the choice was never that. So they want a war? I’ll grant them the horror. I’m not afraid to die or to kill. Just another dead faggot is what the preacher will say, and sadly, some of you would agree. What is the sense in being a freak and outcast, when you cant recognize your own?

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