I am the one who is always exhuming. I am the one you think you see in the darkest of nights. I have yet to reconcile the thoughts within myself. For still I am one with the dead. Oh, sanguine blood of thy corpse, quench my thirst and stain my skin. Oh, how ironic it is to feel so alive when you cease to exist.
I adore what I have become.
I have longed for such a love in my dreams and my wrath will not subside until this love is mine.
