Up the silent wood, trail of decaying leaves swallowing the fading light. The trees of ancient skeletons with gnarled bones and fingers blotting out the memories of Eden in Genesis. Stifling the airwith insomnia polluting the atmosphere with death...

He had always known that redemption would feel heavy, a sack of stones on his back, but he never knew it would feel this lonely. The world wanted to see the man who changed, not the one who was...

...a face of tragedy with a dark slate of mime once a canvas now a wandering soul of a ghost colder than a cask of teardrops aged in the dark's abyss hanging from the sinews of his eccentricity. Now...