[awwlie]

This earworm, it devours me - it eats me alive. I hate it, no - I hate YOU for what you did.

no..

. . .

Oh, misguided fox, 

chasing the stars, 

Thought you would find freedom behind those bars. 

Running with the lost, 

you are bound to collide, 

With the echoes of the choices you tried to hide.

. . .

No - NO. STOP.. WHY DOES IT KEEP COMING BACK!

You will pay for it, you know who you are, even if you can't hear me in these dark hours, tsk. 

Die, just DIE. - COLLAPSE.

I will get revenge.. I will rip your signing voice, steal it, and then toss it in the trash!

Only after signing thousands of songs with it myself.

[awwlie]

....

If there was furniture left to throw at these accursed walls, I'd throw them too. These walls laugh at me, just like she did.  She knew-- I offered her my hand, my wisdom. Yet, she chose to fight. Ha  - Ha.... I suppose,  I failed again. -- Every moment,  I betrayed my own will, my senses.
..
.. 
..
You'll help them, you said..
.  . .
Ha - Ha...
Of course you will... - You're just a saint, white in colors: No imperfections.
. . 
. .
You know better than I do, don't  you. These whispers, marks of my sacrifices aren't real, they are just bruises on a doll to you.

AAAH!

Why!? WHY!?

I just want you to DIE, WITHER. WHY DO I EVEN THINK ABOUT YOU? 
. . .

Just die.

Be forgotten..

You're not worthwhile.

My tears are already flowing.. why, why.. - I don't even understand..

[awwlie]

"You look sad Ayse." a voice in a room called out, a laugh was the reply she could afford.

How could I be sad, when I do not have emotions? I had them snuffed them out. I made myself anew so I could be what I wanted.

"You need help Ayse." the voice once more applied, was it a hand that held her way?

How could I be helped, when even the whole world was against my success.

Pain in my chest,
it stings, did my heart skip a beat?

Had I felt love,

and lost it just as fast?

I wasn't supposed to win in life, was I, Mydaea?

I was supposed to face challenges, perhaps even die a Martyr.

"This pain. This feeling of emptiness." "This pain. This feeling of emptiness." a cold voice noted while embracing them.

I had already forgot how I missed comfort.

Do I deserve this?

All I have done is face foe after foe,

Bled myself for Her sake,

became more like another to serve Her,

did I exchange myself entirely just to chase a endless goal?

No, no.
I became what I saw in my own eyes,
so I could chase a goal of my own,

for I bled for Her, 

for I died for Her,

. . .

I did everything for Her.

"because I thought that you wanted to die" it disseminated like a curse within her heart.

. . .

Did I?

Did I wish to die?
Why did I fight so hard if so..

It took time, but I soon grew to know what I wanted.
It weren't to live like rest of humanity.
My future is brighter than that,

after all, 
I've made promises to become the best version of myself for Her,
I hold that promise in my chest, in my cold heart.

...

It is only a matter of time,

before I forget what it means to feel.

Until I paint myself with ink,

and let its cold embrace remake me.

[awwlie]

I am not sure how I could explain what I saw that day,
wandering down the steps,

I felt as if I saw myself, lying down on the floor.

I kept staring: Again and again, yelling out for them to identify themselves.

They didn't respond: Yet, deep inside I felt as if I was being looked.
I was staring at myself: What was left of my inner will, - my whim.

How could I not explain it?
It clearly was a part of myself dying, abandoning the sinking ship.

Why was this part of myself afraid to face the upcoming fate of death?

Was I afraid of death?
How it stained my stained soul..

How it made my promises nil?

I couldn't tell you, - if only you could respond to my inquiries..

Yet, there you lay lifeless without a worry in the world.

Is this my fate too? 

I have no allies left to ask for help..

They'd shun me if they knew the truth..

Maybe that is the fate I deserve for all my plots.

I've had to fight for the smallest motes of respect: 

Each budding day, almost feels like a new battle.

If only..

The world didn't seek to end my faith,
I could still clasp to hope, the world isn't as ill as I perceived it to be.

Is there even a cure..

to ail ignorance..

No..

Why should I care how the world feels?
It's been nothing but silent to me.

Maybe... it should die, like we foretold..

it doesn't matter how it shapes up to be,

it will be bent back to its old shape once more soon after,

that is the curse Kraus placed upon us.

'The Perfect World'

how silly

At least..

This world made me aware,

that I could help it be better if not for a while,

then for eternia.. if these hands of mine finish that last part..

already chocking in darkness.

Ayse was but an front...

wasn't it?

I was never just Ayse,

I was so much more..

I was so blind to it at first.

I am not Yaeka, either..

No matter how alike we are,

how different we are..

neither am I Rubie,

even as long as it has been since she died...

In the end..

I am just a Priestess of Art and Beauty.

and...

I am happy with that..

even if the world must bleed for my muse.

if happiness is what I still feel..

when everyone bleeds..

and their hearts cease to beat..

Maybe..

I am a Martyr.

[awwlie]

. . .it stuck out to me when one day someone said, I hadn't changed, only the circumstances had.

I wondered if were true,

that I was just the same person: without a single new lick of paint.

I suppose it could've been true,

. . .still did I hate so many,

. . .my body still painted by so many colors.

its hard to say what scar is my own,

what is Hers.

. . .am I myself?

its so hard to say,

when each splash of my paint feels..

pre-made, like .. 

it isn't original.

. . . I suppose that is the irony of being a copycat,

each painting is just a mirroring of someone else's,

it is a flaw in this world.

i suppose that is why this is ironic,

why I hate this world,

why I sought to have it repainted in black.

it wasnt for Her, it wasn't for me..

. . .

it was for my hatred,

something I burrowed in to the ground,

something that only escaped when I realized emotions were real.

yet, i hid them within a closet,

locked it with a locket of my mothers creation,

made sure no part of myself reflected the past.

. . .

why do I think of them?

they never tried make amends when we split apart..

I took the path of most resistance to show the world my spite..

it still hasn't won..

neither have I..

I suppose: what I am trying to say to you my dear wall,

I hate this world.. I know it now, it isn't because it is flawed alone,

but because those colors that exist within, attempt to spread their shades.

re imagine the picture,

make it ugly again,

after all we have bled..

I hate that fact,

that no one cares,

that only I understand it.

they say, you don't need to read notes to play,

you just need be able to visualize them..

I agree, you need open your eyes,

allow your fingers to dance.

. . if only others found that method acceptable,

they think of me as a horrible creature,

devoid of any care,

maybe they are right..

Ugh!

. . .you could at least talk back.

all the cheap insults already exist sung in my ears,

if only there were something new..

maybe tomorrow will show me,

a new color yet be seen by my eyes,

maybe it'll show me how...

..all I ever thought be nil,

how colors cease to exist at once.

I suppose that is the beauty of art, 

. . .it can't last, neither should it.

only does death excuse itself for only the self-righteous..

. . .if i had sacrificed myself for him..

would I have had the same treatment, I wonder..

haha..

of course not..

. . .I am after all nothing but a mote of evil..

. . .goodnight wall... it was nice talking to you again,

the others would've left already, I am glad you stand there.

maybe one day you'll be real.

we all wilt away like flowers,

some sooner,

some later..

. . .yet, I can't wilt away so soon.

I am slowly becoming myself,

. . .why is it so dark?

[awwlie]

It was dark,

So dark..

I..

couldn't see anything ahead,

footstep after another taken,

 but never my own.

Paths carved by others,

I followed them.

I cried..

I sobbed..

I forgot why.

...then I realized,

I was lost.

lost so far down the spiral,
that even my mirror stopped reflecting an image,
we became both still images awaiting for moves.

I asked for forgiveness,

how foolish..

I knew it never to come,

how could they forgive something,

they never understood?

they thought,

I'd bow down before,

accept my sentence.

falter,

but never fall..

only..

I was already drowning.

Is it strange to admit,

I never thought myself capable of anything?

perfect, empty: repeating..

who did I think myself to be?
I was a copycat, a perfect mirror..

... I wondered if I could ever be more..

but now I see it.

I am Her puppet, 

Her perfect porcelain doll. 

haha,

she'd kill me if I said that to her, 

wouldn't she?

suppose that won't matter for now,

She is not Her faithful.

she betrayed Her,

she led me astray,

...why..

...why..

somewhere along the spiral,

I found myself anew.

Noise quieted and in that silence I found answers,

smoother, silkier and softer.

Perfect.

If I could not be real,

...why should the world be?

if I was to be hated by all,

they'd be late, I had already became 

misanthropic..

.. perhaps even,

I embraced misanthropy..

that is why..

I promised Her...

I'd become perfect,

...so she'd be able to love once more,

even after all I stained..

all I'd ruined..