There is a driving force behind this rage that dwells within me.
A red cloud of hate that will bring you to your knees.
I've collected the pieces left of me.
And so I've created this monster that you now see.
O how I have no remorse for the things I have done.
I've denied what I loved to carry this gun.
And at your grave I'll stand solemnly.
There are no more tears for people to see.
This pain that dwells inside of you.
I can only imagine what it can do.
To build upon the rubble is but to conquer my friend.
Though there is no justification in the end.
The broken walls remind me of what I used to be.
And now I will fight endlessly.
Take my heart with you when you leave.
It is of no use anymore to me.
O how I regret the things you are.
Distorted and broken, a correlation of scars.
The screams I heard and the sound of the pain.
As the blood is washed away by the rain.
Into the sewers, where my dreams flowed.
A scarlet desire, prepared to explode.
You've become nothing, compared to what you once were.
Influenced by the knives to the back, of this I am sure.
You funeral is grim, not many people attend.
Though this is stereotypical, for a murderer's end.


Penned by my hand on the 21st of Naturalis, in the year 547 AD.