Life...Death...Love...Murder
Emotions course through our minds, often blinding us to the hostile truth of our world.
Life, the ultimate form of creation. To make something from nothing with a consciousness all its own. Some claim that the creation of life is the ultimate form of love...they would be wrong. In this world of destruction and pain the creation of life can be the purest form of betrayal. Whom with Love in their heart could in good faith claim to hold such for a being brought into this existence of loss and torment?
Death, the sweet embrace of nothingness that calms all hatred and cures all wounds. The fluid existence of pure bliss where the mind and body are both unhindered. The haven made for the weak or tired, those either unable to continue or those who lack the desire. Still as loving and welcoming Death's embrace is there are still those who fear it. Those who fear the solitude or emptiness of the abyss despite the absolute perfection.
It falls to me then to show the unconvinced the perfection of Death. To show them her warm embrace as their bodies grow old or cold from the loss of their vital fluids. To whisper soothing prayers over the sound of their terrified hearts as they race in their chests. To show the humble masses that the belief in the Gods are unjustified and foolish. To demonstrate the true essence of life on this rotting rock of corpses and filth. In truth the gods are nonexistent and always have been. I have traveled to the void more often than any creature in this realm, and for all my experiences one truth rings above all others. You are either alive, writhing in torment or you are dead and complacent in the simplicity of that state of being.
So starts my quest, if a quest is what you would call it, to show this world of squabbling sacks of meat and blood the awe inspiring sights of the abyss.
I do this not out of hatred for how could I hate you if i'm willing to share with you this beauty..this calm. No, I do this for I love you, so much so that I am willing to slay all of you from the highest heretic priest to the smallest beautiful child.
There's a killer burning creeping through my Veins.(im back)
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There's a killer burning creeping through my Veins.(im back)
Psychos don't explode when sunlight hits them, I don't give a f**k how crazy they are.
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