I had to change the music, but it’s already all too late. If I were in it’s stability, it would be like writing a book status as I sit. I’ve already said every words. The dungeon that I am battling. But no-one will ever know. The destination . . . isn’t coming back. Attacked, from every which way . . . The name of a dark one makes his name and view down deeper and clearer. The ten-year cycle that my mom told me about, it isn’t over. The hardest thing, it exist now . . . But what is it. This night shall disappear, I wish it didn’t. Until then.