Oh ye ponderers…
ye wise men.
What didst thou expect to gain?
But a better sense…
of why madness exists.
Now ye hast been infected.
Now poisoned claws dig at thine soul.
Now the night winds comfort no more.
Sewn throughout thine very being…
There is no return to times unseeing.
Written by Matthew – 2015
© 2015 This Mortal Flesh