It's the end of the year, and each day has left a mark on your skin, but they all blur together, and it hurts but you don't know which mark is which. When you're alone, the darkness hurts too much, when you aren't, you can't bear the sun. A man who is born every day, and dies every evening silently smothers a man who preaches how everybody has to sleep, then he shoots himself in a cabin in the woods only to wake anew the next day, only now he has blood on his hands. You die every year, and are born again the next, who will you kill for peace? Perhaps a man that preaches his love of God, for who in their infinite wisdom would allow this? Do not run, for the dark man will always catch you in the end, stand and watch and face the light until end of day.
