The passage of time strains my soul, an endless cacaphony of noise that never ceases within my mind. A barren wasteland, traveling across desperate liquid, red is the blood that sacrifices my life.
I am neverending.
The pain that requires me to abide by its rules flows through my veins, a creation of my own and that which is mine; my life, my heart. I am a vessel for my pain...
But am I truly?
This is not me. This is not myself, this is not that which I am and it is not like the person that I used to be. It seems now as if the mirror is broken, an endless shattering of glass that fades into the background of my heart, as I cannot see myself anymore.
Who am I?