A test on madness

They say we were not supposed to be. I guess they are right, but I'm not leaving it now. The night brings new hope in what could be the pinnacle of destruction. We can shatter existance as a whole tonight, and we aren't giving this opportunity away. It means, I don't really know, but I feel this weird urge to smile, to laugh so hard that the face gets disfigured. At what I don't really understand, and I know this is foolish but this is not the time to care about it.
One by one we reap them. Normal humans coming to face their tainted enemies. An army of bloodstained, maniacal, deformed creatures. My army.
Tomorrow we'll become one again. But for now I can look at my left and see this tormented child walking ahead, earphones on, eyes looking down, blood dripping from the hair and a body count that has already passed a hundred. The movements are slow, dull, as if there was no more will inside the body, as long as there's nothing alive nearby.
There's this building burning back there, I can hear their screams. I can hear the noise their bodies make when they hit the floor, despair makes them blind, it always works. Once it gets them, it's a matter of seconds before they go down a dozen floors. Perhaps they enjoy it. Well, we do.
Perhaps this is an act of extreme lunacy, but the walking horrors move on. I still don't know what moves us, and what is left to be seen. The clown at my right says there's nothing else, that's all we could have had, since the beginning. His eye sockets are empty, oozes coming out of them. Still he never misses one target, the blades hitting with extreme accuracy. His laughter is like a long shriek, showing the teeth that are long gone from his mouth, blades and nails replacing them.
As we advance, the moon serves as our only yet loyal spectator. I can swear I saw a smile on it a few times, as if it despised humans from above. Perhaps it envies us. Never able to slaughter these ants that stare at her, taking her true feelings of hatred for something beautiful they aren't, mocking of her. But don't worry, we'll avenge you moon...
I can hear the sounds of bones cracking. There's a grotesque fat man walking around, eating the bodies we leave behind, some dead, some almost there. He is carrying a boy's leg, as if it was some part of a giant chicken meal, the weak bones are visible in some parts of it. The purple veins on his neck pulse unstoppably.
It's a nasty vision but, it's laughable. Everything is laughable here. We have nightmares walking a real world that doesn't exist, killing unreal people that exist. But why?
It doesn't matter, tomorrow nobody will know a thing about this.