The sting of steel and the hiss of the blade is my only home I watch as my comrades are hacked to pieces and I laugh I know I will never go down, then, the blade comes for me And I listen as the blood leaves my body, someone is laughing
Author: brother in darkness
What do the stories I have to tell you matter. You might read them, but I doubt you will. Even if you do, I will tell them to teach a lesson other than the one you would get. So I'll make it short how I feel, almost all of the good in this world is dead, turned to ashes by people. The only things that have not died out yet are love and pain, live for these two things and your life will be filled with pleasure. Live for all of the things you could hope for in Utopia and everyone will laugh on your grave. Read my works or do not, it is none of my concern, I write these for me, and I post them in the hope that one more person will see daylight and regognize the futility of existence.
Lost
Every time I stare into the mirror I see nothing I see my blank face and empty stare I see my bloodstained hands and I see the boy who has lost his way
Desecrations
The world falls into a void The void of existence Existence consumes and pollutes Void into Substance Good and truth fallen into evil and hate
Fate
Life springs eternal An evil form Spires and crags Stench and disease