The foulness of his mood was intoxicating, angering the air all around.
An almost silent vibration, a deepening, darkening sound.
His thoughts where building like thunder, lightning bitten, so as not to strike.
How quickly he turned, when bridges where burned, almost merciless to their plight.
Now forced responsibility, was raising the bile in his throat.
While they stand and stare, at their own despair, he would not just stand by and gloat.
His compassion was not endless, fleeting, if at all, at the best.
But if he didn't he'd find himself friendless, his patience now put to the test.
When the time for action has come, preparations a thing of the past.
He seethed with rising frustration, as another Dark Spell was cast.
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