where do my books go?

Oh, sinner man, let me dissect your thoughts. You are poison, poised words dancing off your snake tongue, skillfully woven with deceit and cruelty. You have perfected your dance to a clinical precision, knowing exactly when to take the next step to tip the scales in your favour. You operate on knowledge and facts, leaving nothing to chance. The mind is your most powerful tool, and to utilize it completely would be magnificent. You are the epitome of control, a strategist in your own right. To play without a plan is to play a martyr, after all. So take your blade to the back of someone who trusts you, twist it in just below the ribs, and watch them stumble. Watch their blood coat your hands, sinner, and catalogue another death into your mind. I wonder what would happen for you to lose your control, your composure and quiver before pandemonium.

W.B. Yeats

— peaceful-poetry