Hex

Whispers of the soul that cannot be silenced speak through the cracks of our decay, giving way to our presence and stifling their voices. The truth one lives is corrupted by the blackened seas' lighthouse, drawing in fools that fear to tread the waves of habit. When their minds rot and become slaves to the lustre, they forever are blind to the shadows casted by the flickering flames of their afflictions. The light cannot extricate the soul who can't bare the darkness; too consumed by the blackened tendrils of ink that coat their skin and blind their paths. Too soon will they realize the tar that glues them in place- too late, will it be for their repentance. How will your forlorn spirit fair, they wonder with rapt fascination. Will you succumb to their disease or will you deny all that there is?