User:Story weaver

The shallows of my soul have led me to this point. I am engraved in fear, brought forth by anger, silent by the stench of death and decay. I'm hardly even human anymore. The evils in me have forced me to weave stories that will disgust, or terrify you. Perhaps this way I could dispel at least a few of my demons and find the good I'm missing. Let me, let you glimpse into the chaotic nature of my soul. I would wish you luck, but there's none in hell.