Does my presence torment your mind? Or does my face etch itself upon your fingers at night ?

Doomed to see but never to touch. Doomed to be a prisoner of memory and fear.

Curses and bloodbaths have summoned you near. Do you feel the weight of my spirit whenever she is near ?

Fated to futility, your mind torments its own being. A mind that longs but never fully seeing.

Endless rivers have I cried for you; now it’s your turn to kneel at my pew.

Tempted to touch, take a bite. Or forever be haunted by my memory into the dusk of an eternal night.