Blamelessly raised hands, cowardly begging for solace before the agony can ever be cast down. I see you for the inhumane individual you have become, in a world that is senseless of trials that we can never comprehend. Honor is a dead language, we haven’t even begun to see the worst of the slaughter to come. Lambs don’t even flee, they sit and wait without knowledge of what is taking place. Winning is no longer a probability, the den of of wolves lays waste to the innocence, no one has a solution. No one can compromise, or bend to find a way out of the expiration.
Contributor- Chris Ballenger