The Shadows are not a place of love, for life without meaning, makes death an escape.
The Edge is not a place of safety, where it takes naught but a push to end the compulsion bound upon me.
The Deep a place not meant for companionship, a world alienated by loss and distress.
The Lost is not a place of hope, so far from the place that was once called home.
Day by day, the sickness is growing stronger, pulling me from the center of my being.
Dragging me into the darkness where I shall be forgotten.
Endless sadness is pouring from the open wounds on the ragged ruins of my heart, a phantom of its former self.
Gaping holes staring garishly back into to eye of the beholder,
Twisted and tormented beyond recognition.

Why should I continue my miserable existence the same way I always have?
Should I do it just to please those around me, even though I don’t know them? Care about them.
They were the very ones who turned me against them. They spat on me, kicked me, pointed, but did nothing to help, nothing to make it better, nothing to take away the pain. It was them who took my heart, once full of love and compassion, filled it with cruelty and indifference. Gave me the voice to throw all my rage into their faces and vow to make every last one of them regret not being more humane Deep within my hatred of all things, my desire remained. To teach the world that not all lights are extinguished when told to burn out. Some lights burn stronger. The changes aren’t without consequence. My flame was a flickering little light, trembling in the might of the storm of life ahead of me. With a flash I became ethereal, saw things never recorded. I know it the be called The Changing, The Changing