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The age of the shadow puppets is dawning upon or lives, the time when darkness is all there is.
When we are controlled by our so called superiors, when we are told to stay in the shadows to hide from who we are and what we are.
The lives we have lived are lost, lost to the ever lasting night. Our souls leave our bodies to fight for the love and happiness we have lost and so long for.
'It is going to be alright' they keep telling us, but why is it never alright why do the strings that bind us never break?
Tears, innocent tears run down our faces, but they mean nothing to them nor will they ever mean anything to anyone.
The war has begun between the souls lost to the puppeteers and the puppeteers themselves. They have nothing to loose, our souls are merely weapons to hold against us, to bring us pain showing us what we were.