Beacon of the West
Here I face the endless conundrum, to be the sum of actions or ideals. And here I stand against my morals with principle.
All tyrants have good intentions it is easy to bury them in years of disappointment.
My mistakes for which others have paid. Through submissive sub consciousness I pave the way to power and control. Through the mouth of Mist I was told. What I’ve been offered is redemption, to make all understand what it means to be righteous. There will be no mercy for the damned. For I refuse to rot in the stench of mans demise. Here the Beacon of the West will prosper and strive.
There is poison in the wound for the world burns with sickness. He tries to make it right through strife and conviction.
I often dream of days of thunder. I often wonder when my days were younger, and how I’m alone. I’m alone.
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