Zone has no owner, it has its rules

It shows no mercy, to both wise and fools.

It has no God, it gives no hope

It gives to kind, last rites and rope.

It’s a Hell on Earth where demons thrive

But people kill, to get inside.

People kill, to leave this place

People die, for a chance to stay.

For those, outside, they dream of horrors

We live inside, horrific borders.

We live, we thrive, just like those demons.

Here, our lives, they have a meaning.

Zone has no God, it has no Devil

But it has us and its enough

We are in Hell or maybe Heaven

Gates are here, in front of us.

The Zone has many rules and none of them would make much sense to you, living on the Outside. For example here, you would never hear, “I’m sorry for your loss”. Only silence would be the answer. The most empathetic action you would receive, is an open flask and a nod.

People here don’t expect to live long and happy lives and even the most optimistic person at most, would hope to die inside of a blender. It's the most painless and quickest way to die in The Zone, and the cleanest. Your body would be torn apart in a second by countless gravitational pulls, all centered on you, leaving nothing but a red circle outside of its perimeter.