"Poor, Worn Nih."

I feel it. Something is there just out of view. It is like the word on the tip of the tongue, ready to be spoken but unable to be utilized.

Something is coming and it will rage longer than anything before. I feel it. It is too quiet, too calm, too peaceful, too... easy.

"Poor, Worn Nih."

She states this often and I'm starting to believe them. I have vast riches and treasures, but I am still poor. My body has been brutally destroyed numerous times and it wears on my heart, my mind, my soul. I seek value, I seek a place to prove I'm worth the breath I take, but nothing...

**The rest of the words on the page are blotted out with ink.**