Don’t Speak Of

Through the night I stalk my pray and I manipulate the outcome of their deaths, you must understand that what I have to do is a necessity, for my own death may come to a closure.

Closer and closer I get to being alive when the fresh blood of my victims course my veins like the fire that once kept me warm on those long winter nights, days however have kept me secluded in this pit of darkness, cold I am, cold is the world itself, for they have no dignity towards life and its values. Yes, I have caught a glipse of the sun when it rises out of the east, beautiful it is to see such a joy in the world that has no dignity, but beauty also has its own consequences, making it my worst enemy for the rays of the light can distinguish my pale skin into the ashes which were once buried in the depths of my tomb.
To the Damned.