Vile writherd mass that I am, for so long I have sought
Nor day or night can disapate my sorrow, it becomes a friend
To die is to live in defeat, to live is to pity
Mourn me not for my place is here, my time is now
Pity, I do not want, empathy my enemy
For when all is wrought
I am left with myself
The path of release is my own,
Unto you I now force my presence
Forthwith to bear my sorrows