slice the night in half, kill the people of torment and agony.the blood
will soon rain down like acid that dissolves my skin, my flesh falls off
the once strong bones. the blood covered cannibals eat the tear stained
meat. they're dying of starvation and chew the bones left in my disabled
body. as aging begins, i become more brittle. all the blood has drained
away, down into the creak to blend with once pure water. my face will
crack and stay to haunt the ones that haunted me. and so the only
survivor, that didn't commit to a bloody suicide, is the one that ended up
in an asylum and claims to see ghostly creatures that tell him to kill.
the torcher began as a small reminder that grew into the buzz in your head
that makes you roll on the groung with maniac laughte. can any body hear
me? my screams of terror force up in a gag, stuck in my throat that chokes
me to death. thats the end of it all. and when the next generation is left
to find the rotted remains and the blood stained things. our lust was
stronger than us, so now it haunts them every night to awaken the with
screams of terror
-------------- Zamara wyntyr
