On Martyrdom

{{#ifeq: | | {{#ifeq: Justin S. (Whiteflame) | |

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     Author: Whiteflame  
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   {{#ifeq: Whiteflame | |
     Author: Justin S. (Whiteflame) |
     Author: Justin S. (Whiteflame)  
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 {{#ifeq: Justin S. (Whiteflame) | |
   {{#ifeq: Whiteflame | | Authors: ' | 
     Authors: Whiteflame 
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   {{#ifeq: Whiteflame | |
     Authors: Justin S. (Whiteflame) |
     Author: Justin S. (Whiteflame) 
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<poem> Out of all the people In the world who need friends, Martyrs need them the most, And yet, they have no friends, No companions to share the burden of sacrifice,

After all, “a friend is someone Who can like you despite Knowing you very well.” No one wants to befriend a martyr, And quite frankly, I don’t blame them. Martyrs are too...driven By only one concept and instinct, And die too quickly.

A martyr is a machine, And not a person, In that a martyr can only Grasp that single programmed cause– That single looped algorithm. He or she speaks of nothing Else and thus, is unbearable, And he or she tries in all vanity to Grasp that friendship, but the martyr, Knows in the pit of his metallic Heart that none’s to be had.

I am a machine.

Martyrs are interesting when viewed From a lense on a page, But they are terribly dull And redundant in closeness.

Martyrs make terrible friends, As well as terrible enemies. Alas. </poem>

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