winodork666

A war of words it has become. It is not a battle lost, but a batle that has yet to come that comsumes me. The light that I have been trying so hard to avoid has not gone out yet. It seems that if we start a war then the time for compassion is gone. All that is left is to kill them all. But what weapons am I to use, all the good ones seem to good kill so indiscrimanatly, and what is the point of that. Where is the fear, the terror, and the pain. These are the things that I desire and these are what seem to be so lacking. But enough about me, how about the rest of the world, my stupid roomates and the plants that love me. All so precious everyone of them.