Long ago, probably since the beginning of time, I've... Existed? I don't know how to describe it, but let me just say I was there through EVERYTHING. After you've witnessed millions of cold-hearted killing, and clever murders, you start to lose hope you'll ever get out of your hole. My "hole" is really just a formation of rocks and a little wooden table with a picture frame. That old, rusted crooked little frame sitting on that dusty oak table is perhaps the most precious thing to me in the entire world, not only because it's the only human thing I have physically touched, but because of where I got it. That old little frame sitting on a little wooden table.
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Empty Soul
FantasyYou've probably heard a few fairytales in your life. Cinderella, Little Red Riding Hood, something cutesy. He tells a different one. Not about life. About what lies after it.
