Besedila: Sworn Vengeance. Weakness.

In a world where life is uncertain and death is guaranteed, I realize that this is my birthright to the age of decay. As the blackness fills my broken soul and man's spoiled imperfection burrows into my skin, it forces me to open my eyes. We drown in the blood of the innocent. Live in the graves of the dead. Endure the fucking agony of all this suffering. The weak choose suicide. The weak choose addiction. The weak choose belief in a faith that sacrifice their own kind. I will not submit. I need no substance. I need no God. I need no crutch to make it through this life. All those I rely on: no one. Those things I depend on: nothing. My survival lies in my own strength. It's power through control. Control through strength. Strength through hate. Hate through fear. Fear through displays of power. I can't give up. Your words. They won't force me down. Your chains. They won't bind me down. This life. It won't break me down. I will not submit. I'll survive on my own. I need no substance. I need no God. I need no crutch to make it through this life. All those I rely on: no one. Those things I depend on: nothing. My survival lies in my own strength. I will not submit