On a cold November day as the snow fell from the sky and melted on the warm level ground, one man was eager for a change. Markus Rose, was his name, and he often watched this form of nature while working the steel mills every night to feed his family. In his free time he studied pimps. Listening to a sermon one Sunday morning, he watched as the reverend wowed the members with his words, he would soak in his every word and watch as they would pass the collection plate around the church. Markus Rose started to become obsessed with the ability of earning money. Living in the heart of capitalism, he determined that he could not have a soul to survive, so he started pimping his wife and daughter. He used all of the women in his network to rise to power in the streets. Markus even approached the pulpit of his church and became a reverend. No one could explain the mind of a man with no soul, the mind of a man who became obedient to the laws that governed ambition. Even in religion, it's hard to determine what's good and what's evil once someone trains their mind to believe that everything they do is right. The amazing part of this mindset is how it draws others into the circle.
"Feed off of the weak." This message was written in the mental makeup of Markus's brain. At any moment of feeling his heart showing any sign of sympathy he would intoxicate himself with the darkness of human emotion. He would feed his soul with the things that make a man heartless. In the depths of naked women and the evils of white dust, this is the life that gave him what he needed to crush his enemies. Feeding off of the evils of another man's mind. Studying the laws that governed the weak to maintain power and wealth. Knowledge of such self could only lead to the belief of no God. "There is no good on this planet." This is what he would tell his faithful servants; this is what he convinced himself to believe. The beauty of every woman revolved around him. The cunning gravity of those who craved his inner thoughts circulated and wanted to be like him. This desire took a firm hold of the innocent minds of good men and their daughters. Manipulating a woman to kill her first born was later followed by an army of children seeking his love. Markus Rose, was his name, and only the red of a rose could show him why the beauty of such a flower had to be protected by thorns. Inside of this man was something driven by rage. Found in the pit of his own madness he was snorting and sniffing with another man's wife. In the end, the rose in the cement would be stepped on by another man seeking justice. After shooting Markus square in the head and also his wife, a heartfelt man, would spend the rest of his life in jail not knowing that he was a savior of the weak and the new ruler of those trying to heal the hearts of the heartless.