I'm in the mood to meet a fiery end. To look upon my own reflection in the hateful eyes of others. Feel the rage build in my core and flow from my hips. The burning cold escaping from my veins. Lock stares with the mockery in their soulless orbs. They are mine and can no longer run from the pending destruction to be released. Free of restraint, the charge bolts through all contained essence. No more do I know only my own inner darkness, but it ripples through me from the depth of the earth and the vastness of the night sky. My tongue turns black and oily as i whisper the doom known. Yet I hold that stare and the weak wills behind them. Silence blows in on the galing winds, collecting every fear. The death of wicked men rides upon the back of each gust, raising in voice its dirge. Every anger ever conceived frantically claws through my flesh and is born into the world. My ethereal self falls away and is swept into fresh graves. Yet I refuse to release them, those of passionless existence. Circling the halo of my crown I can feel the rightness of mercy, but I must show them what they consumed me with. They are the lost and ignorant children. Their fosterage, my nemesis...my desire... I strike at you through your spawn! I spi out the rotted fruit of your loins. I charge through your army of shame, scattering their meaningless names with the point of my spear. I run you through and relish in the rain of blood...
To be continued... maybe...
To be continued... maybe...