C
Corwyn Burlisk
Guest
*Looks up and down the assorted notes, traces of anguish and pain, sorrow and despair, of conflicts taken too far within ones head, released only to make more room for our nihl world. After a short review of the posts, Corwyn switches tune.*
"Is there nothing here but the melencholy of Madness? I have heard the voice of this place and nothing but laments pass for it's songs, I have seen the content of your assorted dirges, and nothing of hope or heart seems to be left in this place. Why come if only for the ache!? Remember that this too is changable, that while we live we may burn but in the burning we find our lives worth taking. Is there but one lifted voice among this cadaver of the mind? No, I see I have come here to late for hope. Too much has changed here, too much left dead. So I leave this place permanent, unknown, uninvolved and unlamented."
"Is there nothing here but the melencholy of Madness? I have heard the voice of this place and nothing but laments pass for it's songs, I have seen the content of your assorted dirges, and nothing of hope or heart seems to be left in this place. Why come if only for the ache!? Remember that this too is changable, that while we live we may burn but in the burning we find our lives worth taking. Is there but one lifted voice among this cadaver of the mind? No, I see I have come here to late for hope. Too much has changed here, too much left dead. So I leave this place permanent, unknown, uninvolved and unlamented."
