Shadows know nothing of what you have seen, do they? And everyone who meets you, would never suspect all the pain you have endured this life. Enough to make death that much closer... on those certain nights... all alone... when things get really bad... Death you know well. The stories it can tell. Every page carved to your blood. Despair. And a thousand sentences of crucifixion have you been read and convicted in a tomb built of your own hands. Your story is nothing. Cry all your pathetic self-pity. No one cares at all. This book is for the lost. For all who cry without making a sound. All who have longed for moments that never were. Within these pages shines a dim candle down every path of your oblivion. Along these words leads a road down which you shall never turn back. A story carved from the part of your soul that knows more agony than all. The first time you read these words was a solitary moment in time that every sorrow in your life had delivered you to. You are home...