---

A foreboding silence,

A stream of tears,

Is it madness or will?

Exiled to suffering and despair?

The torments of the age,

Cloaks me in a shadow,

The world you know is lost,

Life has new meaning.

What story is to be told?

Of Life? or Death?

The paper is withered,

And inked with blood.

Observe, and you will see a fool,

Grasping for death.

Lying in agony, in madness,

Reaching for wisdom, only to fall.

Weeping, pleading for the end.

Silence, the tempest, seclusion, revulsion!

Silence, the tempest, madness, delusion!

Silence, rage, agony, detestation!

In a world of lost hope,

And a reverence for perversion,

I submit myself far away,

To a place of silence and darkness.

There is a place where one suffers in darkness,

And breeds a hate for all.

There is a place where one collapses at their own torture.

Why must we live among such decay?

Of utter futility and rot?

We are a lost cause, a curse.

In a state of conditional love and malice.