I fortify this easily splintered bone into a stronghold of will as the
balance of man lay beaten in the wake of it's own frailty.
A horde eager to accept deceit and more so to speak it.
Words will sear the throats of all who freely beguile.
The truth burns through my veins and in my black heart.
Breathe the flame that will overwhelm you; flaw ignites swiftly.
A product of conceit so absorbed and vain that he thinks himself divine; he
is sure to die.
And man must truly be God, for he has tried so hard to create me in his image;
a formless shadow deprived of life.
I am the wayward son of man.
My fathers have darkened what was the warmest heart the world would have ever known.
Relish in what you have created.
How can flesh be arrogant when it is so easily charred; a lesson need be learned.
These blistered hands will come to be the iron fist that bestows true and proper perspective.
Set your body ablaze.
Hollow words will burn and hollow men will burn.
