The Key

         In my hand I hold this key; a key to what? I will not tell.  I can see your yearning for the knowledge, for the answer of the riddle it eternally poses.  I know the answer, but will not tell you; I want to see you bend; I want to see you break; I want to see the pain that will transpire in your quest for the answer.  I will tease you along, all of you in scattered directions, I will mislead you, I will deceive you, and I will consume your soul in your quest for the answer.  It is wildly amusing, your curiosity, your bloodthirsty determineance, it is just a simple key, you have no idea what it will unlock, you have no comprehension of what the key even is, yet you seek it, every last one of you; bloodied are your heads in your perpetual frustration, and sadistic is my smile in your perilous quest.
         My favorite among you, are the liars and thieves; your claims are vast, profound and false; you say you hold the key, you say you’ve unlocked its treasure; you even claim to know me by name.  Do I clarify these grand fallacies? Nay, I let them live, I let them flourish; it is through these great lies where my passion lies, for there a many with a serpents tongue, many that claim to know my name and comprehend my secrets; and in the glimmer of my sadistic smile do they fight and die, all in my name, all in there demented minds of hope and glee, for they all believe to know me and the secrets of the key.  Oh they key, a great thing it is, the source of my amusement, the strings by which I make these puppets dance; they all dance the jig of their own demise, for that is what the key is, it is the key of death; unbeknownst to all of men, each and everyone possesses this most perverse and evil key, when they embark on their journey to open its shrouded treasures, they open the door to their own demise.