As their eyes were transfixed by the tales they've heard of me, they'll say "that's a one vile story."
Pray tell if i was just a crazy juvenile, but as one with masks of hidden faces, i still find myself perplexed to this relic pain that i can't seem to wither. I used to be an open blue sky till i painted myself gray. "Here comes the omen" A crisis in disguised that concocted a storm he can hardly weather.
If i were to fall deeper in burden, will i lose my sanity if my mistake dances in my head like a distant silhouetted memory?
If i put my teeth on display, will that be enough to support a cover up story?
If i replay you a broken memory, will you stop the stone rolling right at me? And If i fall on the other side of the story, would you pay the cost of risk and dare pull me out of insanity?