I am covered, hidden and locked away.
Exposed but not exposed.
Secretive, but open and saying too much.
Alone, misery seems to love my company.
Projecting hatred on those I stay distant from.
Not trusting, not needing to, because the motives and character screams louder than the physical disposition of who they seem to display.
I see the cracks beneath, yet, I have no remorse.
I have become so angry and miserable, that those I hate beckon to cause destructive anxiety when I hear them speak because they all seem to talk about me, and only me.
Like I am the main topic of the town.
These jealous petty cowards, soulless peasants, are nothing to me.
Yet their voices, their presence, angers the pits of my hell.
I am a dark presence, unknown.
A mysterious force, an energy I cannot recall.
She takes over me.
She now has full control.
The girl I once hated in the mirror, is now me.
She is my own reflection of darkness.
Lost and lonely...
My own reign of the throne I harness