As I dredge through the wasteland
I see the corpses of the fallen, Laying still upon the ruins of the old world. Let it be known that not all of the fallen have died. For many left upon their own account but now as I ponder upon the I'll forgotten sun scorched land I cannot help but think hypothetically. What if this never happened? What if us, the persecuted, were left to live and love freely? This I do not know, yet deep within my heart of hearts I hope. Some have spoked of foreign worlds, others spoke of salvation off site. All of which have gone dead silent...
So here I stand. One of the last of the fallen, dreadfully awaiting my turn at the hands of fate. Hear my plea: Follow my twitter

















