kickass
Guns or swords?
What eternal hand of eye, what limitless imagination, could concieve the pangs of immortal life? An eternity of broken dreams. A place where once I died. what divine-concieved design, could match a mortal life? A wry and rapt mortality. A life played out in sounds, of weeping, screaming sighs. Is this when the night comes down? The Shadow in us all, that ebbs and flows with ignorance...