use my powers in order to keep the masters game alive.
The power of manipulation,
Is the game of a puppet master.

I seen all of the worlds darkest secrets and wicked truths.
Where the light cannot even reach and no one can be saved.

I sit behind the black vile curtains shut off from the word.
As my hands glide a thousands of strings.
Clutching every string with one rushing strike to gather all.
The cold rusty metal cords slices my pure flesh of my palm and arm with trickling blood flowing like a stream covering the strings like paint.
These cuts may mark others pain,
But these represent my only way to play the game and fill me with joy.

I sit here alone, isolated....
In this tiny room,
Looking at the giant screen that lays before me.

Watching,
Hearing....
All Those screams
Crying,
laughter...
Of these Dumb fools that mock me
EVERY DAY!

These feelings of embodied spirits
Able to feel them
It me sickens me!

Wishing not to feel those sinners emotions..
But feel my own suffering and joy.

Ha!
Surely that is impossible,
Right?
Because even I know, that no one can truly feel their own emotions,
'Cause everyone is just another puppet to the masters game.