My soul has been in atramentum ever since I first tasted light. I was suffocating, gasping for breath, until I found my air to breathe. By a coin, by a straw, by a flip of a hat, the sweet bitterness of truth filled my lungs. My eyes snapped open, and were quickly met with aphotic emptiness, so hollow, so pure. For years, I rested in my state oblivion, petrified to see, to know, to understand the reality of which is around me. I reposed, afloat, in elysian blackness, stagnant, without the will to move or change from my fixed position.

Reversal, and it all rained inwards, seeping in through my pores of loyalty, creating an ever lively current of trapped emotions. But then, when my eyes opened, my feet touched the shore, and a tsunami came. I never felt the earthquake, for I floated in the clouds, but surely it happened, and I became the violent wave of destruction that consumes all that lies on the shore. Intractable acrimony reigned over the Earth. All that accumulated, a supernova, only leaving despair, but within, a sanguine ray.

Slowly, words of a virus, transferred by listened eupnea, the world began to crumble, but society reinforced. Army of the negligible against humanity's mistake, the winner determined by controlled breath. Worlds painted, filling in the gaps, abolishing light, setting forth caliginousness, all to establish the true shade of duskiness that resides in the stygian world around, but wars are never won so easily.

The blade will shatter, and its remnants will pierce hearts, leaving frigid betrayal behind. Slowly, the spark will die, and darkness will close in again, suffocating the soul with viscous inaction. Words of doubt will cross the mind, slicing the last fragment of hope into but dust, indiscernible from the fluttering lies told in youth. I will fade into the background as the scene changes, and the tsunami will collapse, and all will fade away into atrophia, but to be started again, all in, the atramentum.