A parchment is pinned at the workshop and the baking oven in the north of Bane. A few lines are scribbled there.
I wanna be me, but I'm not, it feels wrong but somehow familiar.
I come back as a broken man, back to find back, but what I found isn't me, and Bane isn't Bane.
Felarion Food, the Food Foundation or how this ridiculous institution that I had owned are called, are closed. Every open commitmens are lapsed.
The parchments still burn, so jump in to rescue them, I don't care. I don't revise something.
Call me petnames, lurk me, stalk me, and hold a sword on my throat, I dont care. I have enough and Im tired of living this way.
I don't belong to Bane, but I can't leave too.
I don't wanna be reduced to something I don't want to be. Call for food and feel my cold glance on your soul and my casualness, now, that I recognized.
So don't bother me and go your way,
~JF~
two parchments to end the past
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