
A Sense of Becoming
The stillness of night presses heavily, a suffocating shroud that seems to hold the world hostage. Shadows creep like unspoken fears, weaving themselves into the

The stillness of night presses heavily, a suffocating shroud that seems to hold the world hostage. Shadows creep like unspoken fears, weaving themselves into the

You were born into the lunatic asylum, ejected from the warm and nurturing care of your mother’s womb, into the cold and relentless clutches of

The dead walk amongst the living; empty vessels aimlessly wandering through the cemetery of life, distant, vacant, soulless. Silent whispers echo through the halls where

Your world is a graveyard, strewn with the dead, the living coffins that walk amongst you. The empty vessels haunt the corridors of this fallen