• Dark in a solitary room, the echos of fate roaring through my mind.
    The Whispers of Insanity clouds the Sight, slowly images of death appear.
    Bright crimson rains as the bodies pile up, soaking the Ground with evil.
    The wish of Hope clouds the Heart, seeing the Light of Death.
    Flames burn through the Insanity as the Light Shines, a warm light that tempts the Soul.
    Visions of dark times steals the sound, taking what is left.
    As the bloody images fade all sound is gone, even breath.
    The bringer of Death Looms over all, Scythe slowly pressing into the neck.
    The final whaling Soundless and futile, then all is Still.