How many people have you killed? How many thoughts have you euthanized in your path of self-destruction? How many versions of you have you sent down hell to become who you are now? How many were enough before you started losing yourself? For how much longer will you have to mutilate yourself in order to find a secret behind the ruins? How many pale shadows of forgotten names have you had to erase from your poor memory in order to convinvce yourself you aren’t a murderer? How many corpses have you hidden behind that red door where people usually conceal most of their sins?, And as long as there is no blood stained on your shirt and hands, you will be the saint people say you are. You started worshipping the lies everybody wanted to hear and the best lies are the ones you told, I will give you that. You stopped looking for monsters under your bed the moment you realised they are inside you. You became more of a wolf than a hound; thirsty for blood, ready for the hunt and hyped for his ne...
We are not superheroes with big red capes or vigilantes who fight crime at night. We are just personas with pens in their quivers and who are passionate enough to share the rowdy thoughts devouring their souls.