Is it my calling to ****, do I adhere to follow those that sing such an operatic call for death. I wait in earnest for my provider with fain instructions to request this body to invade with evil destruction upon another. I request, no, beseech that this is not to be the case. Beg implicitly that I shall be freed from this unlawful and ungodly task. Something deeper warrants that I follow, in deed demands that I pursue this most superfluous of destiny.My argument is futile falling so fluently onto deaf ears, if only I could reciprocate in same kind. If only this persecutor would leave, get out of my head, Exorcise itself from within this troubled mind. But nay the barracking continues incessantly.I wake in unusual surround, bandaged in bloodstained attire. How or where remains mysterious? Why? Even more so. I cry into the night. I cry for this cadaver, this shell bleached in such life giving elixir. I cry for me. Lock me away I plead. Padded cell is my destiny my only resistant, use any form to remove this incessant drone. I pray to my God to release me from this bond but only Devil answers my calling.