its beauty. Fear me, for I am Lord of Woe. these fingertips of mine know only pain and sorrow, destroying everything that they touch. Lord of Woe. Enthroned
of mine. I call forth the sleepless skies herding forth the endless nights summoning storms to shatter the absent minds show the world the pain and suffering
I begin to gnaw, chewing away and spitting up the very fabrication of myself. The Eternal Cold. Dark shall prosper as I plunge; descending deeper toward
we must reclaim what is ours Hating and struggling with sorrow and mourning of the significance. Drowning in tears. I am the destroyer of hope, Lord of Woe
Shattered, the fragments of my life lay scattered, engulfed beneath the shadows of my forever. I am broken, decrepit. Lay this rose upon my tombstone
