Scavver

Many times did the faces peer out, through lying portals to the world, just shells of things... bound inside shackles that rotted and stunk of decay and wasted time. It's funny now that I see the complete truth, uncoiled from the grasp of the strike that was unleashed after way too long. The poison slowly worked it's way through my enemies; the poison of my game. If you play enough chess, you realize that good moves sometimes take planning, time, effort, and strategy. The annoying chirping in the background, could hint at the betrayals that swirl like a black miasma inside the shells of false allies. Whether you listen closely enough or not