Silence, darkness, flood an empty room,
The only light is a brilliant fire in her eyes,
A small twisted smile sneaks onto her face,
And in the mirror is a crucifix,
Or is this just a game?

Is it really all that complex?
A flame can burn, but is so easily smothered,
And an ant, so strong, but so easily crushed,
Though why would you want to crush it anyway?
Or is this just a game?

When a heart is being tortured, it is falling to the darkness,
And no one cares, because no one tries to catch it,
Let me be the single hand to reach out to your own,
And pull you back up into a painfilled life

An Angel of Mercy is an Angel of Death,
Whom will only come if the gun is loaded,
Crippled, we are, when we cannot take our own life,
But why would you want to find out that way?
Or is this just a game?

And if one's hand is to pull out a knife,
To slit their throat, to put out their light,
Remember this, there's no going back,
We deny what we cannot do and it pains us with guilt
For this is not a game, we shall be salvaged
Let me be the single hand to reach out to your own,
And pull you back into this beauty and this pain,

I love the way you live, always see the silver lining,
I love how everything always has a silver lining,
Can't you see it's pitiful that we do the things we do,
Maybe this is not a game

-Rikta Dh'Wyrai-

Penned by my hand on the 17th of Aeguary, in the year 303 AF.