The subjugation of my own demise. This torrential influx of tattered and worn emotions, constantly swirling beneath a calm surface. Will they take me over, resulting in the extension of my continuous downward spiral? No. I will retain this force that fights to be free, to jump from the rooftops and shout "I did all these wondrous things!". The world may see them as vile, yet I will always see them as beautiful. For now I will keep them in a warm place, deep within.
How to bring the storms below to a halt, I do not know. Yet that same effect would render me useless. Without those broken parts within, spinning and weaving through my mind, I would not have the courage to perform the much needed service to the world. I will not. No, I refuse to take that away from those victims, those waiting for the release of this world. Through their own actions, those that I have chosen have proven it so, their desire to meet an end. Whether with subtlety or an utter open conviction, they have made their own decisions so long ago. Far before I have ever come along and ripped the final breath from their bodies.
My demise may be set in stone, ready to be written with accusing fists and heavy browed eyes, but it will only be a part of what I have planned. For certain, they will not stop what has already come to pass. One day they will see. Although it may only be at the blood stained hands of someone like me that will open their eyes enough for them to realize.
My demise may be set in stone, ready to be written with accusing fists and heavy browed eyes, but it will only be a part of what I have planned. For certain, they will not stop what has already come to pass. One day they will see. Although it may only be at the blood stained hands of someone like me that will open their eyes enough for them to realize.
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