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| MT, Musings Of A Madfellow | Written: 2010-02-27 05:19:30 |
Volume II |
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We are born from blood and pain, and in the end we will die in blood and pain, the only thing that matters is what we do. So are we anything but blood and pain behind the masks? We are killers. To say otherwise is to shame that simple truth, to cloud our eyes with veil of ignorance, and to become less than what we are. Killing is what we do, we may deviate from that course for a time but it does not change that at the end of the day there is blood on all of our hands, and we are proud of it. We have a method to our madness, we slay only those we deem ignorant, but how does that make us different than other serial killers? Standards of ignorance are judged solely by the knight serving the execution, and thus are as arbitrary as any other standards for murder. However we realize this truth and do not hide behind our righteousness as bounty hunters do. Still our reason and method are once again merely clothes or -perhaps a better metaphor- masks to the nakedness of the truth, we bring blood and pain into this world, not only our own but that of those we deem our enemies. Is our reason anything but a mask for the truth? Do we bring anything good into this world when we bring the blood and pain that invariably comes with killing? No. And yes. We do not bring anything into this world when we kill, rather we kill with a sincere hope that we prevent more pain from being brought into this world. We kill so that others do not have to suffer the pain caused by those we kill. We kill so that those we kill will recognize the error of their ways, and avoid the pain caused by their own foolishness. And we kill as a warning to all those who might contemplate the roads which we guard. We are killers. We are not the good guys. We are the gray, in all its shades and splendor. We walk the thin gray line between wanton destruction, and arbitration to the point that we believe ourselves above the law that we enforce. When we believe ourselves above the pain that we inflict, that is the time to put a gun to our own heads and remove ourselves so that we do not destroy all that we have striven to create. -Musings of a Madfellow |
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