• What you think you see,
    is not actually me.
    What you see is the creation from the pain and anguish of another heart's retaliation.
    I face the wind and fight the storm,
    only to be left tattered and torn,
    eyes closed and ripped asunder,
    awaiting Death's cold grip to pull me under.
    I live a lie,
    yet seek not to die,
    Only weather the anguish I bear,
    For this is my curse,
    and my curse alone,
    And it must not be shared...