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.