My soul is withered and beaten.
I am the carcass of a child lain strewn upon a abandoned street.
I am a blank canvas painted with a palette of blood and tears.
A flickering candle on a window sill on a full moon.
I am the energy of a thousand years of repressed hatred begging to be freed.
I am the tribal war paint that hugs a chieftain’s body.
I am the void inside your soul.
I am the steady drum of a drummer boy.
I am the cadence of hope within chaos.
I am everything you fear and love.
I am a deity embodied in frailty.