Chains. These chains that bind.

Weathered, with layers and layers of legacy.

Beated by the elements that had rained down over the years.

The links are weak now. Brittle with age, these links will break. Any time. And you have this suspicion that they just might sooner than you think.

Why not break free then?

It's time. Perhaps.

When the noises in your head are deafening, and the angels of the silences no longer speak to you – when they have been drowned out by these incessant murmurs that are quickly escalating to screams – don't you think it's time?

Don't you?