What you hold over me is not the fear of reformation, of self change for the better, what you hold over me is the fear of destruction. If by sentencing myself or any other individual to this system, you seek not to make a better Man by the expansion of his perception, thus allowing him to see the depths of his wrongs, be they self hatred, self pity, or self loathing, but instead place him such confines as to dull his imagination, where turning inward to reflect on self would be life threatening. You have built high tech fortresses of steel, magnetics, and wires. Stripped your Mother of her flesh to commit great atrocities against your fellow men, Her children, and your brothers and sisters. You speak of the bad men but not of your hindering hand and its gluttonous reach. You watch as Good Men are treated like animals, then speak of the good you are doing. Well, the Veil is lifting, those with Sight know the Truth, you sir are no Saint. Which is why your uniform is a black dress, to match the Daemon Reaper, with gavel for Scythe. Your heart will be open but there within will be found no fire. Your kind splayed across for all to examine for no Ministries to be present. Your lungs blackened by the Devils hand, with no idea of who it is. The veil has been lifted, even you are becoming aware the Devil is you.
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