There are people who are different.
People who don't drift easily in the sea of humanity; people who still strive for beauty and virtue, while shrouded in a raiment of ashen silk.
There are shades of black, yet white can only ever come in one form. It is endless; eternal. Unlike its counterpart there is no depth to be found in its spectrum. The terror of its power is without a veil.
Black is to comfort. It is to clothe, to shield.
White is the herald of destruction.
Yet in the folds of darkness; there is also a more sinister intention. It clothes itself in lies, deceit, and filth. It makes a mockery what is beautiful, and seeps into others though the shadows it proffers before it.
There is darkness; and there is this.
And I'm afraid, this world has become lost in it.
There are people who are different.
And we are fading.
