I would not kill a wise man to steal away his knowledge, but I might sneak into his dreams. To see what wonders his wisdom had conjured. How grand are his thoughts in comparison to my own? I would run around with a net in hopes to catch the butterfly of a thought. Wings of perfection to the eye, even the overly critical stare of a Korean. And with an unshed tear I would crush that butterfly and dream that it dies. In selfish hatred of the ability of another.
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