The dark creature speaks with eloquence and has an old-fashioned air. He remains nameless throughout his existance, an imp stationed firmly in the midst of something beautiful, sent to ruin and destroy. But he understands now. He said he knew where the light was, and that it would prevail. But, am I his minion? Am I to follow his path? I do not wish to know his intentions.
In and out of reality, the poor unfortunate host gasps for breath. Sucking the air like a desperate drowner. And I am sat down to listen to the sounds of the mixing, stirring, switching plot.
Are we to fall? Only he knows.
I wish to live forever with the love I have found.
I wish to be the sunshine,
and never the sickle to cut you down.
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