Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding everything you see.

The mist now reaches inside and grasps the last of my soul, the stain that has left it's mark on me, but it doesn't take it away it holds it inside so that I will never forget. The dead now begin to rise, the rain begins to fall harder, and those above who have pushed me down begin to smile and laugh. All I can see now are two things a tombstone in the shape of a cross and a spinning sword and I wonder, should I fight should I now try and continue or should I let the dead consume me and make me one of them?