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A blank slate paved in anger.

Rage and fury casts forceful sweeps of the brush.

Cascading into rhythmic strokes,

transposed into melodies, and madness.

All along Sanity bend around one more unseen corner,

pleased with the misfortune its absence brings.

It comes to this why?

Have i been chosen? One of a many.

Perhaps a Predisposition,

left to suffer from past choices.

Or worse.

It's all Random.

Thick Blood and Black Tar have overtaken me by Chance.

Of course, there is always "Fate".

I CAN "live" through this, so i MUST live in it,

and maybe,

others are spared.

Can you hear them?

A distinct and ever growing Drum call.

The War Drums.

beckoning Unimaginable suffering.

I can only assume you don't.

As you are alive, and I.

I, Am the Animated Dead.

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