"My Life Story"
…Is it worth recalling?
Pain, under the alias Heinrich Gustav, sighed as he held the pencil over the blank sheet. Poetry had been his resort to escape his troubled life. His life was even more troubled than most sixteen-year-olds…
All has been taken from me
My life, my rights, my innocence
Nothing remains of the young man
Who once possessed my body
Now all that remains is darkness
Lifeless and emotionless
What point is there in documenting my story?
Setting his pencil down, the blonde boy leaned back with a scowl across his face. His grim, irritated expression had never once left him over the years of his existence. Except for one occasion when it had shown pure horror…
Who was Pain, the young man of many names? Pier Miguel, Peter Jacques, Heinrich Gustav…?
Pain could only be unearthed through his poetry. Rarely did he speak. Rarely did he express any form of emotion. And rarely was his noticed. Unless of course one was unfortunate enough to be staring down the barrel of his gun or tasting the blade of his sword.
The pain of existence is hard to bare
For one who has seen many ages
It drives the mind insane
The eternal agony
Of one's immortality
Poetry speaks infinite words of its writer's life and feeling. It takes a keen sight of the reader to notice…
In the dark I see no light
In the light I still see darkness
And the face of one whose evil exceeds all other
Can it be that this is the price of my sins
Can it be that even the Tormentor
Has his Tormentress?