Dark is my history, born in the breadth of war, I am a product of destruction and desolation, a living carnatation of the inhumanities of war. Often I dream of a solace, a place void of carnage and murder. I am not and I am...filtered through the vial consecuences of the indifferences suffered by man. Perhaps guiled in the pleasure of war, I find myself urning for battle and destruction. Is it my legacy, my future? Have I been guided from birth to lay waste to my enimies? Or perhaps guide "them" to a coaliton of friendship by means of violance and coersion?

The varying grades of my sanity elude me...am I killer, a negotiator, a polition, a businesman? I have yet to distinguish between them, for they all lead to the same end by their own means...death.