I write this out of Anger...
Of Solitude and of Shame...
I write this out of knowing long,
There's no one I can blame.

I gaze upon the city-skies..
As the sun doth set...
A fitting end to tragedy...
And so much blood to let...

For those you see, and who you are..
Will never be so real....
Will never be so comforting,
Will never make you feel...

Your opalescent qualities,
Cascade down over you...
And wash me like the Ocean Tides,
Of Salty, Turquoise Blue.

A Blue that gets so stained and red,
A bloody, Evil mind...A Bright light that becomes of you,And my heart
seems to bind.

The shiny metal of regret,
Will soon cut through my skin...
Letting me escape myself..
From the outside in...

And with these last few moments left,
I'll use to think of you...
Remembering the way you died,
So soon, I'll come to you.

Penned by my hand on the 24th of Ero, in the year 339 AF.