As musings they start....
Weapons of mass decay encased in whispers and smiles by incubi and succubi for an all encompassing neural maim,
Through hopes and dreams they slither,
Leaving grief, filth, pain, and spirit rending sorrow in their wake,
Putrid composers of the great symphonies of betrayal, and sonatas of aspirations razed,
Veins of femoral or carotid are ruptured to induce the swan song of our shells,
But the vein cerebral bleeds you until from love birds you hear only funeral hyms,
For the blood upon the sword is witnessed by all,
But shall never outweigh the blood of our souls staining the soil in our minds,
As is spoken, such is rendered....
Saieth the petty whisper.