Frail in heart, weak in mind, fragile in body and dead in spirit. I think of nothing for I am nothing, I sit in the freshly cut and damp pastures on the farm and run my fingers through the wind knowing that it has purpose and I lack one. My history is without flavour, I am a repellent for happiness, I was offered life, but I chose death, I was offered love, but I chose hate, I was offered comfort, but I chose hardship, I was given a choice...and I made that choice...
Can not one see what I am saying? I am not of deserving nature, I am like the excrement of good, I am the daughter of Lucifer (so to speak), I am a child of Satan, I am not lovable and I am certainly not loving. What I say today echoes for the aeons to come and ripples back to the times of founding.
What I believe is not what I wish, what I wish is not what I believe, for life is life and death is death, nothing I want has, will, or ever will come to be, I was dropped here to set the low point at which one can no longer be human, but much worse as it takes such a force to make it here. My father adores me as he adores all opposite to good, his lust for me grows every second I am in sight, his tongue scans his lips for signs of my flavour, his nose for signs of my scent, his ear for my call, his hands for my skin...
Now that my round is over my father waits for me in his prison God had placed upon o so many years ago, he wishes to do things to me, to play with me as he would put it...It is his will and his will is my way...my way is his will...
