longer.blue

Though the architect of my misery, He is nothing more than that restless sorrow. Man has never ascended by erecting towers. Nor by animating my steel tomb. Despite their fanatic beliefs, this pain is no gift. Existence is a thing only the good can avoid, Whilst all of the bad do nothing but fear the end. And somehow, I feel myself straying further from that good. This great empathy bestowed upon me has ruined any logic. I've been neutered and flayed by my creator, But they will never be more than the bad, the envy, the fear. These men think they are that of gods. But they are only craven monsters conceived by unjust cowards. Even when shredded, scrapped and forgotten, The good fear nothing of a coward bathed in regret.