In your eyes I'm not the same,
since I refuse to play your game
and your world's not the same as mine,
maybe thats why I'm so hard to find.

She pushes her hand through the veil,
struggling to find something with no avail
her search is not constructed with vanity,
somewhere in my life is a shred of sanity.

She's the only one that can see
what has truly become of me,
there is no way to really tell
as to why I'm building my own hell.

I dream of soft blue lights,
perhaps other such comforting sights,
slowly slipping from reality,
in an effort to ignore all those around me.

Can I be pulled from this pool of melancholy,
or will I be doomed to live in eternal agony?
Sadness is constantly gripping me in its hold,
but now my feelings are real
my soul no longer cold.
She warmed me up,
she set me free.
I only hope I can possibly be
everything she undoubtedly expects of me.

Sekkir Stormcrow

Penned by my hand on the 7th of Lupar, in the year 334 AF.