Dragon slayer
Current mood: contemplative
Category: Writing and Poetry
That they liked him was no wonder. How could they resist? He had spent a lifetime learning how to say these things. Ah, and even the most subtle reaction to his words was not lost on him. He remembered everything.
His words could sing the ears and dance inside their heads, striking chords, creating symphonies of romantic thought. And not a single word was wasted. He despised those that wasted words. Words were precious to him. Each word was chosen with the utmost care.
And they loved him. They loved his words. They loved the way his words made them feel. The way they made them feel about themselves. He knew the path to the heart well. He could pave a silver and gold road of glimmering adulations directly to the heart. And polish it with velvet rags of hope. Longing rays of hope.
They loved him and they knew not why. They longed for more, more ear tickling from this master of sweet drivel. And he despised them. Deep in the very fabric of his soul, he despised them. He hated them for the millions of hearts they had broken with their words. The lies they had told with their words. And the souls they had destroyed with their words.
These indiscriminate wasters of words were loathsome to him. Since he could remember he had been sickened by them. His mother had made sure of that, though she never knew. He had always been able to see the insincerity behind her words. He could see the slightest twist of her tongue as this viscous venom passed through her lips.
And he knew she was only one of them. Yes, he seen the others as they slew their wicked verbatims about and he would cringe with every word. How dare they toss these poetic trites about. "I love you" ... "I long to be with you forever". How dare they!
Not a single word of truth floated upon the whispers of their breath. He seen men, so many men taken in by these lies. He had vowed to himself long ago to slay this pernicious dragon and with his words he did. He used his words to twist their minds and break their hearts and it pleased him so. Everytime he did he would remember his mother. He would once again hear her lethal chants. The very chants that had broke his father. That had taken this gallant man, this strong German, and made a child of him.
Yes she had lied and he knew forever that they all lied.
