NOT SUITABLE FOR ALL VIEWERS (13+) 3:00PM mid day: The wind crashes in the distance showing slight interruptions in the usual darkish green clouds of smog filling the air grasping on childhood dreams and punishing what could've been done. The rain doesnt fall it pounds on the rusty hallow metal pipes like a troubled orchestra. The earth's tears soak Keegan's coat and pours down to his muddy unkept timberlands. Keegan blames himself not what was done but merely what wasn't done. Why was he spared? What more is there for Skythorn to offer than pain? Keegan looks over a bridge near the park looking into the powerplants emitting poison into the air. It's somehow comforting. Its a reflection to the world inside him its haunting but in a comforting way. Keegan's eyes drip tears on his cheek but he's used to it, there's routine. For a second he dreams of it all stopping putting his hand closer to the cold wet gaurd rail before a familiar leather glove reaches out touching him gently on his back. The voice spoke as Keegan turns around slowly to see a older gentleman in a slightly more dry light brown trenchcoat with a copperhead snake imprint on holster on his belt holding a dark umbrella over the both of them. "I should've died years ago, hasn't Skythorn taken enough from us?". Keegan turns around avoiding eye contact "Kessell has been expecting you"
I wanted to hell with the devil by stryper but i didn't want to risk a converter
