Chapter Before Spawning the Hated

A crudely misshapen mask,
casting its gaze upon the others,
from the bottom of the closet,
battered and tossed aside.

The lights are on in the room,
but no one sees as termites crawl into the mask,
no one hears them crunching through the wood,
no one sees the blood dripping from the eyes of the mask.

Ten thousand hands carved the mask,
each slicing it with a butcher's knife,
each gashing open the wood,
ten thousand hands cast the mask aside.

Ten thousand faces smile as they carve,
ten thousand scars upon the mask,
it's almost ready to be worn,
all it needs is a face to be hung upon. 

Out of the crowd,
the silent one is pulled,
brought into the front,
and the mask is put on him.

Looking back he sees that their promises,
weren't worth the sacrifice he made.
There's nothing in the room,
except Silence.

Silence wears his mask,
as he wanders the room,
looking for a mirror to see,
what he has to be.

Looking in the mirror,
he sees an empty void,
which has now become his face,
and knows he has been cheated.

There's nothing left to do,
nothing else to say,
Silence is everlasting,
carrying a name hanging in the damp wind.

A meaning that lies within reach of the horizon,
but the world speaks not its tongue.
Under the red sky,
a white moon and star mark home.

Fallen from grace,
left without love for any living thing,
left without a soul,
Silence sits beside the shores.

The waves echo the name back,
a dry condescending wail,
ending with a mighty crash,
no rhyme, no reason, no meaning,
nothing for it here or anywhere.

Nights Silence spends wandering homes,
never one place to stand still,
thoughts never stop,
the never-ending story goes on.

Every time to stop and try to believe,
in himself Silence continues to wander,
Ten thousand faces turned to him in scorn,
ten thousand mouths laughing in unison.

Silence knows he cannot get his life back,
he knows he cannot get the laughter to fade away,
the empty resonance of his name,
haunts him forever.

There's nothing left here,
there's no way out,
no way for Silence to leave,
the mask is forever stitched to his face.

A rotting mask of ghastly human flesh,
carved by ten thousand hands,
created by ten thousand minds,
plastered on to one face.