6AM Musings

Soul claimed that she was Honesty, and that Logic was a traitor. Soul, the thespian. She called her medic, her iodine, her bandaid a traitor. Logic was Fear, she accused, Fear in disguise. Trapping her. It was not protection; it was imprisonment. Soul said, I am Honesty. I deserve voice. The dramatist, the artist needs her stage.

And Logic told her: don't flatter yourself. I guard. He said, my loyalty is to the Playwright.

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Talk about vague.