Prologue ::: monotone; without emotion; showing no inflection in ones voice/tone?. [get off it, im not fucking webster]

Yet the lack of emotion is in itself a most horrid emotion felt only by the truly brokenhearted.

Monotone screams are most deadly.

Lack of feeling, yet feeling enough to cry out. Feeling enough to release a blood curtailing shriek, the sort of cry the wind listens for, the sort that quiets the loudest of beasts.

these putrid screams, these monotone mysteries are topped only by a muted malice for the general population of this supposedly round earth-- This skewed blur we call home.

[[im plagued by run on sentences.]]

muted malice..

anger kept in grows like a fungus in the black dew-laced evenings of winter.

anger let out spreads like wild fire in the barren grasslands located just north of your hometown.

keep it in or let it out. Either way you suffer. We suffer. I suffer on your behalf.

go binge on feeling until you burst. You cannot vomit depression, angst weighs only the heart down. Starvation will never feed love.

This trapped drive brings self torture. The will, the ability...all stopped dead in their tracks by a closed door, or twenty.

suffer in silence; its a growing trend.

You and you alone know the best way to break yourself.

inner mutilation, the most deadly of self inflicted injuries. An injury that goes unnoticed, 'tis easily overlooked.

Its what you dont see.