His eyes reflect his posturing, that ugly affect meant to intimidate those who would oppose him. Looking deeply into those eyes, though, one sees the abject terror within, the fright that bubbles up from the core. His only weapon—the hatred that rips even his friends to shreds—is fear turned on itself, despair turned inside-out, a sharp, fiery claw cleaving his enemies into pieces even as they reach out to him in empathy. He can’t tell friend from foe.

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
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