Through the glass have I seen reflections of the darkness beneath the light. Where corpses flow within the confines of a clockwork we refer inevitability. It is there I have seen the emptiness in their eyes, all of them. Those whose voices are silent and blood which flows beneath the sewers. Whose throats are cut and limbs are broken just as the glass. Whose master is the click of clockwork in absolution so precise consuming determination that it forgot the human equation all together. Here there are silent screams, the flowing of red and the soft clicking of clockwork. If damnation had any part of it then it may have been warranted. Here however behind the glass where darkness lay beneath the light...there is no purpose, only action. Evil for the sake of chaos, not reprehension.
