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No beauty for the beast,

only comfort in the anguish

and the constant reminder of that past

where hope was still yet present,

and things were still yet more simple,

when life had a clearly defined purpose

and before that curse had set him down a path

of constant self destruction and self hatred,

before he had transformed into this miserable creature

upon, which he now looks in his broken mirror; a visage so horrible, 

so embarrassing,  such a far cry from the man who he once was' before this

present squaller he was a god and like a god he fell so far from grace.