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by Grant Gilbert
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The beast

There is something stirring in my town
An underlying restlessness
A definite sense of unease, a growing agitation
It moves like a whisper on the wind

This thing has stalked me swiftly
It came upon me like a wraith
And with as much malice has pounced upon me
Like so much sleeping prey

How swift was the attack?
In retrospect I do not know
But let me say it's torn and ripped apart
So completely, that what I had has become like chaff before the wind

This beast has fed well my friend
And if allowed will devour all before it
So I must chip away at the armor in the open
And silently steal into the belly of the beast and create dissention from within

Beware the beast is black with hatred
I call it legion for it is many
But how can I fight a battle with success
When my left hand cannot agree with what my right hand does

So first I must create harmony from within
There must be unity, for without it I cannot succeed
Yes there is something stirring in my town
At a glance I stand a bit straighter and there's a spring in my step

So my friends if the need is there, draw strength from me
My mind is clear and my arm is strong
I must stand tall and act with honor
But, I have seen the beast for what it is
Self consuming

Grant




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