| Pressure on the inner walls of my brain grows heavier. I must |
| alleviate the pain I feel, for soon many will die as they come |
| before me with effortless attempts. The search for divine power |
| beckons me and the only way to achieve is to destroy. Victims of a |
| torn society lay in waste, as I pick through the bloody carcasses. |
| Dead bodies just seem to fall before me. |
| Saving the most edible morsels, the weak ones scatter. With bloody |
| weapon in hand, I tear through the limbs. Cries of anguish filter |
| through the land, echoing in the valley. Many have tried to come |
| before me with effortless attempts. I sift my way through the fields |
| of dead bodies, stopping to take a trophy or two. |
| The fields run deep and far, for I have killed many and I must |
| travel far to reach my destination. |
| My final resting place, where I will be reborn. For now, the air is |
| still, smell of dead bodies is ever so prevalent. I am the last and |
| here I shall remain. The pain I have once felt is lifted from my |
| being. Villages of useless waste, a race witch does not deserve to |
| live. I reek havoc amongst the children from a present with no |
| future, |
| For I am the strong and those who defy me lay in waste. The days of |
| travel are long and the stench of how many I have killed lingers on. |
| I am tired and need rest, but the forces pulls me to my |
| destination. |