Broken.
Cold.
Empty.
Alone.
Is this all there is? This brutal existence, slave to only time?
Oblivion.
Empty, cursed, Ob-li-vi-on.
Empty.
Empty.
Empty.
For I am Empty, Dweller of the Darkness.
I am the long lost memory of the Song. The beat. The voice.
The heart.
But I am an echo.
A forgotten shriek in the Chamber of Time.
Frozen.
But I shall never die.
My sound, my song, is forever locked in these walls.
I am the walls.
I am my own prison.
I am the endlessness of Oblivion, yet I am the the confines that drive me to insanity.
I am the darkness.
I am the song.
I am the echo.
I am the lament, captured by time.
I am the wasteland.
I am the cell.
I am the insanity.
Who am I?
I am the naicisuM.
Washed up and forgotten.










