I’ve always been drawn to things that feel dark, powerful, and beautiful in their own way something aesthetic but strong. I grew up as a boy who kept everything to myself, never really sharing my pain with anybody around me. Instead of breaking me, that silence shaped me. Every moment I held inside became a part of my strength. The darkness I carried didn’t crush me; it built me. Now, the power I find in quiet and in shadows is what defines me.
They move through the dark like whispers with knives, faces hidden behind the ghosts of who they used to be. Pain carved out their hearts long ago, leaving only hunger for money — cold, endless, and sharp. If you can pay, they’ll walk past you. If you can’t, they’ll smile once before the light goes out. No mercy. No feeling. Just the sound of coins and the quiet after your last breath.