• In a chamber
    in a house
    on a hill,
    flanked by motes
    of darkness
    and blood
    lays a
    time-worn,
    blood-soaked
    shell
    of a man
    who wished
    for a peaceful
    morrow,
    that in all its
    beauty,
    was a
    fallacy, much
    like the
    wish
    of a child
    to grow up
    unburdened,
    to live without
    life.
    Such
    is a
    painless existence,
    of which
    the
    shell
    knew no
    dreams.

    Indi