I look in the mirror, and the face is a stranger,
Yet I know the forge—rage and sorrow,
Hammered by survival, shaped by its cost.
But who dwells beneath the scars?

Most go to the grave never knowing their true form—
Content in the comfort of illusion.
But we who seek truth are burned alive,
Our hearts a furnace, our minds a war.

A curse disguised as a blessing.

- Niko Randeni