a blatent blackened aura casts over faces cold, every waking fiber has in the war chose fold, the widow of the battle has not herself chose weep, she chooses rather anger, this widows name is hate,
she presses people further, she urges all to kill, no choices does she leave the people of the pack, they chose her options long ago, they chose to abandon souls, they chose option drawn and cold- the option was to attack, their soulds leave worlds that bitter, they grow hate to the core, they close themselves to leave all love, murder becomes a chore, the malice in them burns to stride, they leave the bodies on the floor, the blood is flowing over, the blood is leaving veins, the children cry to lucifer, the one whos knows their pain.
no anguish has been rivaled, nor shall it be today, these only are the children that live inside my head.

stand ho the failures i have made, and where they brought me now, my face is buried in the dirt,my soul is turned to stone, i leave no free will of my own, and claim that i am strong, i leave myself such little path when i am dead and gone.