Do you finally feel pain, Sammael"
By your own hand" Your own volition' Sticky sweet isn't it....the blood upon your maw, dripping from the fingertips you so declared, feel not.
Empowering ...but maddening all at the same time.
A walk through the epiphany being your making, your undoing. Revel in it if you dare, but I think you shall not.
You stand upon your pedestal, safe from all or so you think. Lift your chin in defiance, damning all to hell, holier than thou in your facade....every folly.
For you will never be strong enough to be a man...a true man and not some beast that was spit from the bowels of heavenly hell only to deem yourself Godly and not of the flock.
We know, Sammael....we know the truth and this is something you cannot possibly snuff away, even when life's breath is cast to the side....the spirit lives and lives well.
The veil carries a hundred ghosts....the star's splinter....
The promise I kept is the road to exile....
