When my lifeless body is found, ashen white and cold. Do not let any grieve, but let my story be told. I fought the battle, but I could not win, Victory was taken from me as I gave in. Life was bitter sweet, some days were easy and some were hard. I lived as best I could but in the end I did succumb. I gave in to the longing for peace, I surrendered my armor and felt deaths sweet release. Let history not people judge me. Some will say I was cowardly but others will understand. At least who now stand where I did a very short time ago, on the edge of the abyss looking into the eternity. So now let my Epitaph be written, that I have nothing else to fight. Let the night take me and let me learn my fate. What ever may come, surely it is better than the hell that was called my life.

Three Iron Nails could not build much you see, but they were enough to hang a man on a tree. Three Iron nails did not seem to count for much, but when they went through his hands and feet, they became part of history. The three Iron Nail were ordinary, but when they were used in a crucifixion they became extraordinary. For you see, they were used to sacrifice Gods only son. By the three Iron Nails his precious blood did run. Upon the tree where he was crucified, the Son of God bled and humanity was sanctified. If the man who made three Iron Nail could have seen how important they would be, perhaps he wouldn't have made them, but then there would not be salvation for you and me. So be thankful for three Iron Nails that put Jesus on a tree.

I want to get something pierced, but I am told not yet. I want to get a tattoo, but I am told I am not old enough. I want to stay up late, but I have to just lay in bed and stare at the ceiling. Everything I want is just beyond my reach. What I think is good for me is some how evil. When can I make my own decisions? When can I do what I want. I just want to have some fun, I am not looking to harm anybody. Why must life **** so much?

We all have desires that we want to satisfy. We are a people unlike any other. Animals do what they must with a purpose, we consume and hoard just because it suits us. We take from the Earth and each other only to be emptier each time we do. We do not want to save, we just crave more and more. We leave scars on our mother, we destroy the lives or our sisters and brothers. Some of us rise to exalted heights, while others can't even get enough to eat. When will we come to our senses? When will we learn equality and discipline. Can anyone tell me how much is enough?

I am wrapped up in my own imagination, I am looking for a new sensation. I am trying to find something to fill an empty space. I want to know if true satisfaction exist. I often have to settle for momentary pleasure, I am not sure how I can measure each experience against the next. What some call *******, I call getting by. Perhaps one day I will die. All I know is that I suffer from anxiety, unless I can find something to satisfy me. So I may appear normal to you on the outside, but I am what some people consider twisted inside.

The world is only a way station, a stopping point on a journey. A war rages around us and we cannot see it. Most people are blinded by the day to day of their own drudgery, only a very few will ever truly see beyond the veil. While there are some faithful that practice the ceremony of what they believe, they only profess but refuse to experience the reality of what goes on. Flesh and blood are merely puppets for powers that lay hidden just beyond our sight. Many layers of reality exist overlapping with our own world. Ignorance is not only bliss, but essential for many to survive. The majority do not want to see the ugliness of the other worlds or the beauty which would scare them all the same. For if they come face to face with the truth, then they must examine themselves and admit that they know nothing of Heaven or Hell, Death or Life. They must undertake a rethinking of their whole system of being. This is why so many do not to confront what cannot be seen.

What some call torture I call Nirvana. What others see as depraved, I see as enlightening. With each lash of the whip, I am more sober. With each turn of a ***** I am better for it. As the voltages is cranked, my focus becomes ever clearer. What to some is agony, to me it is ecstasy. I make no apologizes for what I need to feel. I do not make known what keeps me alive. In secret places and in seclusion I seek solace. With whom I share my desires is of no ones concern. Just know that to be what others call normal, I need pain to set me free of my demons.