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.