I may be blind. I may be deaf. And I may be mute. And more importantly I may be dead. But I
still see. I still hear. And I still sing. And I still... live.

--

I entered a trance. It came too me unexpectedly. I felt the pain and fear around me and perhaps
the people's fear affected me.

I was cast into a dream of pitch-black darkness. It was like Tar, bubbling and churning but never
changing color from its sticky blackness.

Then a woman slides out of the viscous blackness. She is unnatural. From afar she looks as
innocent as a young princess who is given everything she asks for. One who never goes hungry
and never wants. Who is fat from luxury. But as she floats closer out of the black suction, you
can tell that this is not true.

Her skin is like churning blood. Her black bullet eyes bob and spin on her bloody eye sockets of
her bloody face. Her hairs are like needles and swords that stick out from her head. She looks
like medusa as her hairs slither quickly trying to slay anything that gets close enough. Are some
of her hairs split into double edges?

Her clothes are made out of tattered flags. I recognize the soiled stars of proud countries. The
reds, the greens, the whites, the blues, and the yellows. The stripes that crisscross, run vertical
and horizontal, run thickly and in fine lines. The symbols and the colors that represent each
nation on earth cover her blood-crimson body. The seams are sloppy and poorly put together.
Does she smile wickedly as she strokes her breasts, causing the clothes made out of flags to
wrinkle and ripple and tear, soiled with her blood red fingers–her nails of death and destruction?

Her feet are dragged through green and brown sewage slime. Dead animal carcasses float in the
deadly sewage and flies zip around at the surface drawn towards the food that bobs in the slime
but not daring to get so close to death themselves.

I was scared of this blood-red female, even though she promised fame, power, and wealth. I
knew she was allied with death and yet she was no match for Satan. Was she Satan's angel or
his foe? If only I had asked her these things before I took her hand. She offered it promising so
much that I wanted.

Her smile actually looked seductive on her boiling blood face. Her teeth were like sky scrapers
that reached toward the sky and told stories of always rising up and never falling down. They
told of a world where gravity pulled up to the sky and never let you fall down, no matter how
much you struggled. Too bad I never thought that maybe she lied. Or maybe it was impossible
to not fall.

Was her blood skinned hand the hand of the devil? Or the disguised hand of God? Or was she a
force neutral to both great powers? I've learned not to judge ones character by his or her looks.
So I didn't know who she is and I never heard her say a name. Her voice was a mixture of
tapping rain and gun shots. The drumming taps and bangs were somewhat soothing and made
her promises seem ever so believable.

I took a hold of her hand and followed her wherever she took me, whether it be heaven, earth, or
hell.

Someone told me her real name, but I don't know if I believe them. Did someone tell me her
name was War?