PLOT
Is There An End To This Waking Nightmare In Which I Inhabit. One Where I Can Keep Hold Of My Identity, One Where I Can Live. However Hard I Try All I Seem To Find Is The Intoxicating Drizzle Of Cruelty And The Unblinking Eyes Of My Most Feared Adversary. The Green Pastures Promised Have Been Set Aflame, When I Meet My End I Am To Be Laid To Rest In Their Ashes. As My Skin Sheds, As My Tissue Disintegrates, As My Now Bare Bones Shine In The Light Of The Moon And The Fading Glow Of The Inferno, Will I At Last Find Peace?